BCSB^WtW 


X-442.ST2 


Jjfj  SOUj-HERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

A  A      000  084  846    5 


MODERN    STANDAR 

EDITED  BY  F.  C.  WEMYSS. 


■    IKGOIAE, 

THE       B    A  K   B  A   B  ■  I   A    N  : 

a  Jplcti), 

/ 

IN      P   I  V  E    !  JL  C   T   S . 

Translated  from-  the   German,   and  adapted  to  the   English.  >  &tdge, 

BY    MARIA    LO  V^lTTL 


WITH  THE  STAGE  BUSINESS,   CAST  OP  CHARACTERS, 
COSTUMES,   RELATIVE   POSITIONS,   ETC. 


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No.  LXXXIX. 

MODERN    STANDARD    DRAMA 

EDITED  BY  F.  0,  WEMYSS. 


IHOIAK, 

THE        BARBARIAN: 

21  Pap, 

IN      FIVE       ACTS. 
Translated  from  the   German,   and  adapted  to  the  English  Stage, 

BY     MARIA    L  O  V  E  L  L . 


NEW  YORK: 
WM.  TAYLOR  &  CO. 

(  S  .     FRENCH,     G  E  N  E  R  A  L     AGENT  ,) 

151  Nassau-Street,  corner  of  SrnucE. 


The  Timarch  of  Massxlia  - 

Polydor,  a  Merchant,  "]  f 

Myron,  an  Armorer,     i 

Neocles,  [Citizens  of  J 

Amyntas,  f   Masiilia,  S 

Elfhenor, 

Lykon,  a  Fisherman,  J  [_ 

tngomar, leader  of  a  band  of  Alemanni, 

Aiastor,  "|  f 

Trittobapttes,     I 


Ambivar,  f  Alemanni, 

Novio, 

Samo, 

Herald, 

Actea,  Myron's  Wife    • 

Parthenia,  her  Daughter 

Tkeano,  a  Neighbor     - 

Fisherman's  Wife 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS. 

Drury  Lane. 

Mr.  Neville, 
Mr.  J.  W  Ray, 
Mr.  Cooper, 
Mr.  Abbott, 
Mr.  S.  Jones, 
Mr.  G.  Watson, 

Mr  Anderson, 
Mr.  C.  Clarke, 
Mr.  Ennis, 
Mr.  H.  Mellon, 
Mr.  Beckett, 
Mr.  Manley. 

Mrs.  Weston. 
Mies  Vandenhoff, 
Mrs.  Barrett, 


I: 


Bowery,  2V.  Y. 

Mr.  Gienn. 
Mr.  Griffiths. 
Mr.  Stevens. 
Mr.  Collins. 
Mr.  Browne. 
Mr  Gouldson. 
Mr.  Bowes. 
Mr.  Eddy. 
Mr.  Hamilton. 
Mr.  Reed. 
Mr.  Loffingwell. 
Mr.  Moore. 
Mr.  C.  Browne. 
Mr.  Lowe. 
Mrs.  Jordan. 
Mrs.  A.  Parker. 
Mrs.  Yeomans. 
Mrs.  Needham. 


Citizens,  Alemanni,  Guards,  Fishermen. 


COSTUMES. 

THE  TIMARCH  OF  MASSILIA.—A  Ions  blue  shirt,  trimmed  with 
brown ;  puce  toga,  trimmed  with  scarlet ;  fleshings  and  sandal? ; 
Phrygian  cap. 

POLYDOR. — Long  russet-colored  shirt,  scarlet  and  brown  border; 
gray  toga,  trimmed  with  black  and  scarlet ;  fleshings  and  sandals. 

MYRON. — Grey  shirt  with  black  border ;  fleshings  and  sandals. 

NEOCLES. — Blue  shirt,  black  Grecian  border ;  fleshings  and  sandals. 

AMYNTAS. — Gray  shirt,  black  Grecian  border ;  fleshings  and  sandals. 

ELPHENOR. — Brown  shirt,  -  black  Grecian  border  •  fleshings  and 
sandals. 

LYKON. — Brown  and  amber  striped  shirt ;   fleshings  and  sandals. 

INGOMAR. — Leather  breast-plate,  with  copper  bosses;  brown  loose 
shirt ;  wolf's  skin,  hung  to  back ;  helmet ;  shield ;  spear ;  fleshings 
and  sandals.     Second  dress :  Plain  marone  shirt. 

ALASTOR,  ") 

TRINOBANTES,     a.    . 

AMBIVAR, 

NOVIO, 

SAMO, 

PARTHENIA. — White  Merino  dress,  with  Grecian  trimming;  amber 

Grecian  drapery  and  trimming.     Second  dress :  White  drapery. 

ACTEA. — Brown  dress  and  drapery. 

THEANO. — Gray  dress  and  boddioe ;  plain  head-dress. 

HERALD. — Amber  shirt;  breast-plate;  and  scarlet  robe. 


Similar  dresses  to  those  of  Ingomar,  of  various 
colors. 


REMARKS. 


This  Play  is  a  translation  from  the  German,  by  Mrs.  LoTell,  who 
has  completed  her  task  in  so  excellent  a  manner,  that  to  her  exertions 
in  the  cause  of  Dramatic  Literature,  the  English  Stage  is  indebted 
for  a  Play,  which,  like  "  Richelieu"  and  "  The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  will 
become  a  stock  favorite — the  oftener  seen,  the  more  attractive. 

The  parts  of  Ingomar  and  Parthenia,  the  hero  and  heroine,  are 
worthy  the  talent  of  a  Forrest  and  a  Cushman,  in  whose  hands  they 
would  prove  an  attraction  which  no  true  lover  of  the  Drama  could 
resist.  The  story  throughout  is  beautifully  told,  and  interesting  to 
the  last  moment.  The  filial  piety  of  the  Greek  maiden  is  placed  before 
the  audience  in  a  most  striking  manner;  even  love — the  strongest 
and  most  irresistible  passion  of  the  human  heart — is  made  to  yield 
to  duty ;  and  when  appealed  to  by  her  Barbarian  lover — whose  savage 
spirit  she  has  at  onee  tamed  and  subdued — who.  in  a  tone  of  mental 
agony,  exclaims.  "Oh,  Parthenia,  wilt  thou  leave  me  V  her  simple, 
touching  answer,  is,  ':  My  parents  wait  their  child !:'  lie  at  once 
resolves  to  be  her  guide — and,  when  arrived  in  sight  of  Masselia,  her 
home,  (from  whence  she  strayed,  to  ofFer  herself  a  sacrifice  as  the 
ransom  of  an  aged  father.)  in  the  transport  of  her  joy,  the'  sudden 
thought  recurs,  that — 

"  Here  we  part  !" 

But  not  so :  he  goes  with  her  to  the  city — resolves  for  her  sake  to 
become  a  Greek — abandons  even  the  dress  of  his  favorite  band  of 


IV. 

Allemani— yields  up  his  sword  for  the  handle  of  the  plough— and 
doubly  earns  his  bride ;  spurns  indignantly  the  offer  to  betray  his 
countrymen,  but  makes  them  at  once  the  friends  and  allies  of  the 
Greeks — redeems  his  bride  from  slavery,  by  the  sacrifice  of  his  own 
liberty — and,  when  finally  rewarded  by  the  Gods  for  all  his  sxifferings, 
he  finishes — 

"  To  love  I  owe  this  bliss." 

Parthenia  replies — 

"To  love  and  honor." 

Then  are  they  for  ever  joined — 

"Two  souls,  with  but  a  single  thought- 
Two  hearts,  that  beat  as  one." 

The  language,  poetry,  and  dramatic  action  of  this  Play,  have  not 
been  excelled,  if  equalled,  in  the  history  of  the  Modern  Drama,  and 
will  well  repay  the  reader  for  perusal.  It  was  produced  simultaneously 
in  New- York,  on  the  evening  of  the  1st  of  December.  1851,  at  the 
Bower}  and  the  Broadway  Theatres,  and  was  triumphantly  successful 
at  both. 

F.  0.  W. 


INGOIAR. 


ACT  I. 

Scene  I. — Massilia,  tlte  Market-place,  in  front  of  an  Archvjtcy 
which  crosses  the  back  of  the  stage. — In  the  foreground,  on 
t/ie  right,  Myron's  and  another  house ;  a  spinning-wheel 
and  basket  in  front  of  Myron's  house. — Opposite  to  it  the 
house  of  Polydor. 

Enter  AcTEA,fro?n  tlie  House,  r. 

Act.  The  sun  is  nearly  set — the  city  gates 
Will  quickly  close,  yet  Myron  comes  not  home : 
Parthenia,  too — wild  girl !  freed  from  her  task, 
Flies  like  a  bird  unfettered  from  her  cage. 
Parthenia  !  daughter  !  child  ! 

Enter  Parthenia,  r.  u.  e. 

Well,  mother  dear ! 

Act.  Ah  !  truant,  see,  here  lies  thy  work  undone, 
And  evening  near. 

Par.  I've  spun  enough  to-day  ; 
And  yonder  are  our  neighbors  gathering  olives — 
I'll  help  them.  [Going. 

Act.  No  !  thou  shalt  remain  with  me  ; 
And  listen,  wild  one  ; — thou  hast  long  enough 
Wasted  the  hours  in  trifling  children's  play, — 
'Tis  time  to  end  it ;— so  now  sit  thee  down, 
And,  if  thou  canst,  be  serious  for  once. 

Par.  Yes,  mother  dear — I  hear. 

[She  seats  herself  listlessly  at  the  wheel. 

Act.  Bethink  thee,  child. 


D  INGOMAR. 

This  Polydor  is  rich — a  man  in  years, 
"lis  true,  but  rich — a  widower,  indeed. 
But  much  respected,  and  of  qual'.ty  ; 
He  asks  thy  hand — dost  listen  ? 

Par.  (Starting.)     Yes,  oh  yes. 

Act.  Ah,  so  thou  always  say'st ;  yet  I  may  speak. 
Talk  by  the  hour,  while  all  thy  busy  thoughts 
Wander  thro'  fields  and  woods,  as  thou  thyself, 
Chasing  the  butterflies  ;  but  now  'tis  time, 
Though  with  spring  blood,  to  think  of  coming  autumn,— 
'Tis  time  to  think  of  marriage ;  yet  already 
Thou  hast  rejected  Medon. 

Par.   (Coming Jmivard.)     Oh!  he  was  old, 
Grey-headed,  gouty,  coarse — 

Act.  Evander  then 

Par.  Evander  !     Yes,  he  had  a  fox's  cunning, 
With  a  hyaena's  heart,  and  monkey's  form. 

Act.     Mad.  foolish  girl !  go,  trample  down  thy  fortune, 
Until  repentance  comes  too  late  !     Thou  think'st 
'thyself unequalled,  doubtless;  lovely,  rich. 

Par.  Young  am  I,  mother  ;  joyous,  happy,  too. 

[Embracing  her. 
And  you,  you  love  me !  what  can  I  wish  more  ? 
Yes,  you  do  love  me  ! 

Act.   Love  thee — ah  !  and  well 
Dost  thou  deserve  our  love  ! 
Why  do  1  fold  thee  thus  within  my  arms  % 
We  love  thee,  but  thou  lovest  us  not. 

Par.  Not  love  thee,  mother  ? 

Act.  No  !  or  as  our  will 
So  would  thine  own  be — thou  wouldst  let  us  choose 
Thy  husband. 

Par.  No,  dear  mother,  no — not  him. 

Act.  What  dost  thou  hope  for,  then  1  Perhaps tboTrthfnk'st 
The  man  in  the  nioou- would  be  thy  fitting -speusc  : 
What  waitest  thou  for.  I  say  1 

Par.   I'll  tell  thee,  mother. — I  was  but  a  child, 
And  yet  I  marked  it  well :  you  sang  to  me 
Of  Hero  and  Leander,  and  their  love  : 
And  when  I  asked  thee,  wond'ring,  what  love  was, 
Then,  with  uplifted  hands  and  laughing  eyes, 


INGOMAR.  7 

Thou  told'st  me  how,  into  the  lonely  heart 

Love  sudden  comes  unsought,  then  grows  and  grows. 

Feeble  at  first,  like  dawn  before  the  sun. 

Till,  bursting  every  bond,  it  breaks' at  last 

Upon  the  startled  soul  with  hope  and  joy, 

While  every  bounding  pulse  cries  '  that  is  he 

Who  carries  in  his  breast  my  heart,  my  soul : 

With  him.  oh  may  I  live,  and  with  him  die  !' 

So,  when  old  Medon  and  Evander  came 

To  woo,  I  laid  my  hand  upon  my  heart, 

And  listened,  listened,  but  no  !  all  was  still. 

All  silent ;  no  response,  no  voice ;  and  so 

I'm  waiting,  mother,  till  my  heart  shall  speak  ! 

Act.  [Aside.}     Good  gods  !  'tis  thus  we  let  our  old 
Tongues  prattle. 

While  young  ears  listen.     [Aloud.']     So,  thou  foolish  child, 
'Tts-fclntt  thou  waitest  for — thy  heart  must  speak ! 
I  prattled  nonsense,  a  child's  tale,  a  dream  ! 
I  tell  thee,  there's  no  second  will  come  to  thee 
Like  Polydor,  so  rich,  so  honorable. 

Par.   Honorable  ! 
Beats  down  my  needy  father  in  his  wares, 
Higgles  and  bargains 

Act.  That  thou  understandest  not. 
[e  is  a  careful  and  a  saving  merchant : 
?hink,  think,  my  child — say  yes — for  my  sake,  do  ; 
5ay  yes,  my  child. 

Par.  Hold,  mother — I  will  wander  never  more 
Through  woods  and  fields  ;   like  other  girls,  will  spin,- 
Will  work,  will  read  thy  wishes  in  thine  eyes  ; 
put  him,  that  Polydor,  I  cannot,  will  not — 
No,  never — never  ! 

Act.  Never  1 

Par.  Thou  art  angry  ! 

Act.  Away  i  have  I  not  cause  enough  for  anger  ? 
Thy  parents  now  grow  old.  and  long  for  rest ; 
Thy  father,  a  poor  armorer,  in  the  fields, 
Labors  and  toils  all  day  ; 

.Then  must  he  hammer  at  the  forge  by  night ; 
And  when  the  tillage  rests,  that  cannot  he, 
But  sets  out,  heavily  laden,  as  now,  with  arms, 


8  1NG0MAR. 

To  offer  them  for  sale  in  neighboring  villages. 

Par.  Poor  father  ! 

Act.  Poor,  poor,  indeed  !  Then  I  remain  at  home, 
'Tis  truo — yet  go  I  forth  in  thought,  and  carry 
With  him  the  burden  of  the  goods  :  with  him  I  pant 
Up  the  rough  mountain's  slippery  path,  and  feel 
The  pelting  storms  which  soak  his  weary  limbs, 
And  think,  that  even  now,  in  the  dark  valley 
The  wild  Allobrogi  or  fierce  Allemanni 
Attack  him,  rob  him,  murder  him,  perhaps  ! 

Par.   Oh,  mother,  mother  ! 

Act.  So  must  I  weep,  and  weep.     But  thou — 
Thou  whom  he  loves,  for  whom  he  e'en  would  die — 
For  whom  he  risks  his  blood,  his  limbs,  his  life — 
Thou,  thou  might'st  spare  him  from  all  weariness, 
Might'st  dry  my  tears,  make  happy  our  old  age, 
Be  so  thyself.     But  no  !  thou  canst,  yet  wilt  not. 
Go,  go,  thou  selfish  and  ungrateful  child. 

[Exit  into  house,  r. 

Par.  [After  a  pause.']     Ungrateful!  no,  ye  gods,  that  am 
I  not. 
Ungrateful  to  my  father ! — No  !  and  yet 
For  me  does  the  rough  storm  beat  on  his  head  ; 
For  me  he  staggers  'neath  his  heavy  loads, 
And  totters,  panting  up  the  mountain  sides. 
Yes.  yes. — I'll  show  my  mother  she  is  wrong  ; 
It  shall  not  be.     But  yet,  what  would  I  do  ? 
Unite  myself  to  age,  to  avarice  ? 
That  is  to  die  !  to  die — 'twere  better  far  ! 
But  yet  it  must  be  so — farewell,  sweet  dreams  !     [Pauses. 
And  once  the  future  lay  so  bright  before  me  : 

There  shone  the  scarce-formed  hope,  the  mystic  joy 

[Suddenly. 
Let  all  be  fancy — love  be  but  a  dream  ; — 
All  is  a  fable  that  adorns  our  life, 
And  but  the  passing  day  alone  is  real  ! 
Well,  be  it  so.     Parthenia  wakes  to  duty  ! 
And  now,  sweet  visions  of  my  youth,  farewell. 
My  father  now,  shall  labor  hard  no  more — 
Shall  rest      Ah  !  who  comes  here  ?  'tis  Polydor  ! 
I'll  fly — yet  no  !   I  will  remain  :  if  my  happiness 


Must  be  put  up  for  3ale,  then  l$t'&he  price 
Be  well  secured  for  which  I  barter  it. 
What  looks  he?  pride,  ill-temper,  avarice — 
And  I  his  wife  !     It  makes  my  heart  grow  cold. 

[Site  approaches  Iter  spinning-wheel,  at  which  she  sits 

to  work. 

Enter  Polydor,  l. 

Pol.  [Soliloquising.']  This  will  not  do,  the  slave  impover- 
ishes me ; 
There  is  no  doing  without  a  wife — it  must  be. 

Par.  [Aside.]    Does  he  not  look  as  tho'  he  had  the  weight 
Of  the  world  upon  his  thoughts  ?  and  yet,  I  wager 
He  only  thinks  on  pigs  and  geese. 

Pol.  Nothing  replaces  Kallinike  to  me  : 
She  was  a  true  heart — she  could  work,  could  save  ! 
But  then  the  armorer's  daughter — could  she? 
Ah,  she  is  there  herself !  she's  young,  she's  pretty. 
So — yes — no — well,  so  be  it. 

[Approaching  and  addressing  Parthenia. 
Good  day,  fair  maid.     Good  day  ! 

Par.  Say,  rather,  evening,  when  the  sun  is  sinking. 

Pol.  Can  it  be  evening  while  thy  bright  eyes  shine  ? 

Par.  Away,  sir,  with  fine  words — we  will  speak  plainly. 
They  tell  me  you  propose  to  marry  me. 

Pol.   Ah  !  that  is  plain — that's  coming  to  the  point  ; 
Alas  !  her  fond  impatience  cannot  wait. 
Yes,  yes,  such  is  my  thought. 

Par.  My  mother  told  me  so, — and  yet  I  wonder 
Thy  choice  should  fall  on  me :  how  soon,  it  seems, 
You  have  forgotten  Killinike  ! 

Pol.  Forgotten  ?     No,  indeed  ;  a  man  like  me 
Forgets  not  gold,  nor  goods,  nor  the  worth  of  goods  ; 
And  that  was  she  to  me  ;  yet  weighty  reasons 
Press  on  me  a  new  choice,  my  children- 
Par.   Ay,  poor  orphans ! 

Pol.  Poor  they  are  not :  they  are  troublesome, 
Gluttonous  pigs,  wild,  rude,  unruly  boys. 
Shall  I,  at  great  expense,  hire  a  schoolmaster 
From  Samos  or  Miletus?     Gentleness 
Best  rules  rough  strength,  and  thou  indeed  art  gentle. 


10  INGOMAR. 

Par.  Gentle  !  oh  yes,  as  gentle  as  a  lamb 
Led  to  the  sacrifice. 

Pol    Besides,  I  am  often  far  from  home — my  business 
Now  calls  me  to  the  market,  now  to  tho  harbor ; 
And  shall  a  slave  meanwhile  keep  house  for  me, 
And  farm,  and  warehouse  ?  guard  my  well-filled  coffers  ? 
That  only  can  a  wife,  only  a  true  wife. 
And  then,  too,  I  grow  old,  am  often  sick ; 
And  who  would  tend  me  then  ?  make  ready  for  me 
The  warm  room,  and  prepare  my  drink  and  physic  ? 
Ah  !  only  a  fond  wife. 

Par.   Oh,  my  poor  heart ! 

Pol.  'Tis  thou  shalt  be  that  wife,  and  thou  shalt  make  i 
Strong,  3roung  again  ;  thy  love,  my  pretty  rosebud 

Par.  Away — and  listen  now  to  me  : 
Thou  know'st  my  father  tills  the  fields  by  day, 
And  at  the  anvil  works  by  night,  and  then 
Upon  his  shoulders  carries  to  a  distance 
His  wares  for  sale;  that  he  is  now  in  years, 
And  wants  repose  : — say  then,  when  I  am  thine — 
Say,  wilt  thou  think  of  my  poor  father  ? 

Pol.  Ay,  certainly  I  will — how  could  I  otherwise  ? 
Yes,  yes,  I  will — I  will  think  of  thy  father. 

Par.  And  do  ;  what  wilt  thou  do  for  him? 

Pol.   Oh,  he  shall  be  advanced,  for  he  will  be 
My  father-in-law,  the  father-in-law  of  Polydor, 
Of  the  rich  Polydor  ;  and  from  the  gods 
My  lineage  springs  : 
Think  what  an  honor  ;  from  the  gods,  my  child. 

Par.   But  honor  gives  not  food — what  wilt  thou  do  ? 

Pol.  Well,  in  the  first  place,  buy,  as  hitherto, 
His  wares  at  a  good  price. 

Par.  At  a  good  price  ! — That  is,  good  for  thyself. 
Well,  and  what  more  ? 

Pol.  What  more  !     Why,  then  again,  then  will  I — 
Observe  me  now,  and  bear  in  mind,  girl — know 
I  will  take  thee  without  dowry — yes,  entirely 
Without  a  dowry  ;   true  as  thou'rt  alire. 
I'll  take  thee  -ay,  without  a  drachma ! 

Par.  But  what  do  for  my  father? 

Pol.  Is  not  that 


INGOMAR.  11 

To  do  ?  and  plenty  too.  I  think.  .. 

Par.  No  more  ? 

Pol.  No  iuort?  !  almost  too  much. 

Par.  By  all  the  gods,  yes,  it  is  quite  too  much ; 
And  so.  good  evening.  [Going. 

Pol.  No,  stay — thou  shalt  not  go  without  an  answer. 

Par.     An  answer  thou  shalt  have,  and  mark  it  well — 
Procure  your  children,  sir,  a  schoolmaster 
At  any  price,  and  whence  you  please  ;  a  slave 
To  guard  your  house,  attend  to  bolts  and  bars ; 
Shouldst  thou  fall  sick,  there,  at  the  corner  yonder, 
Go.  bid  the  huckster  sell  thee  wholesome  herbs  ; 
Mix  for  thyself  thy  medicine  and  thy  drink. 
But  know,  for  me  there  grows  no  bitterer  herb 
On  earth  than  sight  of  thee  !     Now,  mark  it  well — 
This  is  my  answer — thou  poor,  heartless  miser. 
So  fare  thee  well,  descendant  of  the  gods ! 

[Exit  into  house. 

Pol    [Standing  looking  after  Iter  for  a  time.~\    What's 
that?  did  I  hear  right?  she  turns  me  out? 
Me.  the  rich  Polydor  !     The  armorer's  child 
Scorns  me,  the  rich  descendant  of  the  gods. 
As  though  I  were  her  father's  fellow-workman ; 
Disdains  me  !  mocks  me  !     There's  no  bitterer  herb 
On  earth  than  sight  of  me  !     Yes,  and  it  shall 
Be  bitter  to  thee,  and  to  others  too. 
I'll  have  revenge  !  What  shall  I  do?     I'll  take 
No  more  swords  of  him,  I'll  buy  up  the  rights 
Of  all  his  creditors,  summon  him  to  justice  ; 
I  will ;  I'll  drive  him  from  his  house  and  home, 
Ay,  from  the  city — him  and  his  saucy  child. 
That  will  I !     Yes  :  I'll  force  out  his  last  drachma. 
Oh.  I  will  not  rest  until  I've  had  revenge  ! 

[  While  violently  agitated  he  walks  up  and  down. 

Enter  Lykon,  l. 

Lyk    The  road  straight  on.  he  said.   Ay,  here's  the  market ; 
Near  here  must  be  the  house.     I'll  take  my  chance. 

[He  goes  to  the  next  house  to  Myrorfs,  and  knocks. 
Hillo  !  come  forth,  open — I  bring  bad  news  : 
Shut  as  you  will  your  ears,  misfortune  knocks 


12  INGOMAR. 

So  loud  that  you  must  bear  it  in  the  end. 

Pol.  [Apart.]     Ah  !  what  does  the  man  want  ? 
Tlieano.  [Opening  tlie  door  ]     Who  calls  so  loud  1 
Lyk.   Come  out  and  you  will  hear. 

Enter  Theako,  from  the  doorway,  k. 

The.  What  do  you  want,  man  ?  speak  ! 

Lyk.  You  are  Myron's  wife. 

The.  The  armorer's  ?  I  ?  no.  my  husband's  dead  ! 

Lyk.  Then,  thank  the  gods — better  death  than  slavery. 

The.  Ah  !  who?  what  ?     Myron,  dost  thou  say  ? 

Lyk.   Is  taken  prisoner,  seized  by  the  Alemanni. 

Pol.  [Aside  ]  Taken  prisoner !  seized  !     Ah  !  that's  good 

news,  indeed. 
The.  Myron,  a  prisoner  ? 
Lyk.  Yes ,  I  beheld  it  with  these  eyes. 
The.  Ye  gods  !  Myron  ! 

Enter  Neocles,  Elphenor,  Amyntas,  and  Citizens 
through  archway. 

Here  come  nis  friends. 

Nco.  Ah  !  what  alarm  is  this  1 

The    Elphenor,  Adrastus,  here  !  This  man  brings  news  ; 
Myron  is  prisoner — seized  by  the  Alemanni. 

Nco.  How  !  speakest  thou  true  ? 

Elp.  How  did  it  happen  ?  tell  me. 

Lyk.  It  was  beside  the  coast ;  I  was  preparing 
Within  the  woods  a  yard  to  fit  my  boat, 
When  came  a  man  along  heavily  laden  : 
1  stood  concealed  by  a  thick  bush,  and  saw  him 
Lay  himself  down  to  rest  upon  the  moss, 
When  suddenly  from  out  the  thicket  rings. 
Like  a  wolfs  howl,  the  shout  of  the  Alemanni. 

Enter  Actea,  coining  down  the  steps  from  tier  house, 
without  observing  those  present. 

Act.  There  !  she  has  carelessly  left  the.  spinning-wheel. 
[Seeing  her  neighbors,']     Ah  !  what  is  this  ! 

Lyk.  With  that  they  rushed  upon  him, 
Seized  on  his  goods,  and,  with  rough  acts  and  words, 


INGOMAR.  13 

Demanded  who  he  was ;  and  when  he  said' 

He  was  an  armorer  of  Masilia, 

Thej  shouted  with  delight,  '  he  must  with  them  ;' 

And  with  loud  cries  they  drove  him,  bound  aloDg. 

Act.  An  armorer  !  bound  !  and  driven  along?    Ah.  tell  me 
Who  was  the  armorer!   speak  !  who  was  the  man? 

Lyk.  [ After  a  pause;    to  t/ie  others,  with  his  eyes  cast 
down.']     Say.  is  that  Myron's  wife  1 

Act.  Myron's  !  ye  gods. 
Then  Myron  was  it  ?  speak  !  why  stand  ye  dumb  1 
No,  no,  it  was  not  Myron  !  tell  me — quick  ! 

Lyk.  [After  a  pause]  He  is  taken  by  the  Alemanni. 

Act.  [S'irieks.']  Woe  is  me  ! 

Neo.   Sbo  owoins ! 

EIp.  ghp  fcUiftte  fh"  %r£^nA  ! 

The.  [Supporting  her .]   Help-.1  ht4p  !  carry  her  in; 
I  will  console  her.  [They  carry  lier  into  the  house. 

Amy.   Are  these  barbarians  from  the  mountains  1 

Lyk.   Yes  ; 
The  Alemanni,  who  some  three  weeks  since, 
As  well  you  know,  regardless  of  the  treaty, 
Broke  from  their  native  fastness  in  the  mountains, 
Destroyed  the  land,  seized  upon  travelers, 
And  drove  the  cattle  from  the  fields  ;  and  these 
Are  they  who  now  have  taken  wretched  Myron. 

Par,  [Rushing  from  the  ltouse^\     Where  is  the  man  who 
brings  this  fearful  news  1 
Art  thou  he  ?  speak  !  my  father — is  it  true  ? 
Sawest  it  thyself? 

Lyk.  Scarcely  ten  paces  from  me 
Were  the  old  man  and  the  exulting  robbers. 

Par.  And  thou  escapest,  while  he — 

Lyk.  Within  the  thicket 
I  stood  alone  and  ventured  not  to  stir 
Until  the  band  moved  off;  and  then  I  fled  ; 
But  the  old  man,  perceiving  me,  called  after — 
:  Hear  me  !   I  am  Myron  of  Massilia, 
The  armorer  ;  for  the  sake  of  all  the  gods; 
Go,  tell  them  there,  that  they  may  ransom  me.' 
Then  one  of  the  wild  men  called,  '  If  they  will, 
They  must  pay  thirty  ounces  of  bright  silver : 


k*T4'~ 


INGOMAR. 


That  is  his  priceV  ^"Amidst  the^rfcbouts  I  fled. 

And  ^hcy  with  haste  bore  him  towards  the  Cevennes. 

Par.  And  he  *.  prisoner  !     No — back,  foolish  tears  ! 
Clear  be  mine  eyes,  and  thou,  my  soul,  be  steel ! 
They  carried  him.  thou  say'st.  to  the  Cevennes  ? 
And  they  demand  a  ransom  !     House  and  fields 
Are  mortgaged — what  is  to  be  done  'I     Yet  friends 
Remain.     [Addressing  them  severally.'] 
Adrastus.  you  will  help  us  1     You. 
Amyntas,  — you  grew  up  with  him  ;  think  how 
You  shared  with  him  the  games  of  childhood, 
The  cares  of  age  ;  you:ll  rescue  him — you  can. 
Oh  !  speak,  kind  friends ;  say  yes — lend  us  the  ransom. 

Amy.   1 1   thirty  ounces  ?  would  I  had  so  much 
for  my  own  children. 

Nco.  The  sea  carries  all  my  wealth, 
And  who  may  couut  on  wind  and  waves  1 

Pol.  Ah  ha  , 

Par.  [To  A'drastus.]  Take  pity,  that  the  gods  may  pity  you; 
[To  Neocles.]  That  thy  ship  may  return  in  safety  back, 
The  yoke  of  bondage  and  the  weight  of  poverty 
Never  oppress  thy  children — rescue  him. 
Oh.  let  my  mother's  grief,  my  tears,  prevail  ! 

Nco.  I  cannot  help  you.  ' 

Par.   Amyntas — you. 

Amy.   I  cannot.    "  , 

Par.  Oh  !  friendship,  what  a  fable  !  my  poor  father  ! 

Herald.  [  Without  ]     Room,  citizens,  for  the  Timarch  ! 

Par.   Ah  !  the  Timarch  ? 
He  is  saved  !  Massilia  will  protect  her  children  ! 

Enter  Herald,  with  a  white  wand,  preceding  the  Timarch,  l. 

Her.  Room,  I  say.  for  the  Timarch. 

Par.  [Sinking  at  the  feet  of tlie  Timarch.]  Rescue!  help! 

Tim.  Speak,  maiden  :  wherefore  dost  thou  ask  our  help  1 

Par    Save  him  !   Myron  the  armorer — my  father — 
In  the  mountains — the  Alemanni  drag  him  hither  ; 
Oh  !   rescue  him  from  slavery. 

Tim.   A  citizen 
In  danger  !  what  wouldst  thou  have  us  do  ? 


INGOMAR. 


15 


Par.  Let  the  trumpets  sound — the  citizens  seize  their 
swords  ; 
And  let  Massilia's  power  demand  her  son  ! 
Rescue  their  captive  prey  from  the  wild  robbers, 
And  give  him,  free  again,  to  his  free  home. 

Tim.   That  cannot  be,  for  by  an  ancient  law, 
Made  in  the  time  Massilia,  then  scarce  founded, 
Was  struggling  for  its  unsecured  existence, 
In  battle  with  the  inhabitants  of  the  coast, 
It  was  decreed,  the  care  of  individuals 
Should  never  compromise  the  entire  state, 
But  that  each  man  must  look  to  his  own  safety. 
Massilia  but  protects  her  citizens 
So  far  as  reach  the  shadow  of  her  walls  : 
And  that  has  Myron  overstepped  ;  nor  can  we 
To  favor  him — 

Par.  To  favor  !     [Springing  up.]     No — not  favor — 
'Tis  right  !  Js  not  Massilia  firmly  now 
Established?  reaches  not  her  powerful  arm 
Far.  far  beyond  the  shadow  of  her  walls'? 
Her  free-born  son  is  wronged,  and  the  state  with  him. 
He  is  imprisoned  ;   Timarch,  set  him  free  ! 

Tim.   I  cannot ;  were  a  single  stone  displaced 
In  the  fabric  of  justice,  the  whole  house  would  fall 
At  once  :  see  to  it  yourself.  I  cannot  help  you. 

[He  prepares  to  depart. 

Par.  [Sinking at  his  feet ]     Have  pity. 

Tim    With  the  gods  alone  dwells  pity  ; 
On  earth  dwells  justice  :   and  for  private  right 
I  cannot  do  a  public  wrong.     Make  way  ! 

Her.  Room,  room,  I  say,  for  the  Timarch  ! 

[Exeunt  Timarch.  jn eceded  by  Herald,  &c. 

Pai .  {Calling  after  them  )     Pity — mercy  ! 
Alas  !  no  ear  listens  to  my  complaint  ; 
All  leave  me.  all  forsake  me  !   O  ye  gods  J 

{She  conceals  her  face  in  both  hafids,  kneeling. 

Pol    {Aside,  rubbing  his  hands  )     '  I  cannot  help  you.' 
Oh  !   I  could  hug  you,  you  gold  worshippers, 
For  what  you  said.     ;  I  cannot  help  you — no.' 
Right !  all  are  gone — all  !     And  now  comes  my  turn, — 
She  shall  remember  it.      Ah  ha  ! 


16  INGOMAR. 

Par.  (Raising  her  liead  and  looking  around.)     I  will,  I 
must  find  help  ;  I  will  to  Polydor, 
Will  sacrifice  myself  to  save  my  father. 

Pol.  Well,  Polydor  is  not  far  off ;  what  wouldst  thou  1 

Par.  Here  in  the  dust  behold  me  at  thy  feet. 

Pol.  Ah !  see  now,  in  the  dust  and  at  my  feet 
Art  ill  that  thou  dost  seek  so  rank  a  weed  ? 

Par.  Forget,  forgive. — restore  my  father  to  me, 
I'll  be  thy  wife,  will  bind  myself  thy  slave. 

Pol.   Indeed! 

Par.  Will  faithfully  take  care  of  house,  of  home, 
And  goods  for  thee  :  will  comfort  thine  old  age, 
And  watch  over  thy  children. 

Pol,  See,  now  see  ! 
And  wilt  thou  do  all  this  ?  all — really  all  ? 

Par.  All  this,  and  more  ;  pay  but  this  ransom  for  him, 
Restore  my  father. 

Pol.  Ah  !  and  thirty  ounces, 
I  think  you  ask  ?     No,  no.  that  is  too  much  : 
I  am  a  man  who  follow  good  advice, 
So  will  I  yours  ; — hire  tutors  for  my  children, 
Protect  my  house  with  bolts  and  bars,  and  then, 
If  I  am  ill,  will  buy  me  medicine, 
There,  at  the  corner,  from  the  huckster — so 
I  think  you  said.     The  advice  was  good,  and  now 
I'll  give  you  mine  ;  rescue  thy  father 
Thyself;  go,  seek  him  j-onder  in  the  mountains  ; 
Plead  with  thy  flippant  eloquence  to  move 
The  barbarians  there,  and  try  if  any  one 
Of  them  will  value  it  at  thirty  ounces. 
And  pay  thy  father's  ransom.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 
Thou  hast  spurned  Polydor.  see  if  they'll  outbid  him  : — 
And  so,  good-bye,  my  thorny  rose,  good-bye  ! 
Now  I'm  revenged.     Aha!  f Exit  l. 

Par.  {After  a  j^ausc  )     What  thought  is  this  that  over- 
comes despair, 
And  fills  my  swelling  heart  with  inspiration? 
Oh  !  fool,  that  only  came  to  goad  ray  sorrow  ; 
It  is  the  gods  command  thee  thus  to  speak  ! 
Away,  away  !  the  night  comes  quickly  on. 
Parthenia.  up  !  thy  labor  now  begins — 
Away  !  Ah.  my  poor  mother. — Theano.  Theano  ! 


IKGOM4.R.  17 

Enter  Theano,  from  house. 

My  mother  ?  speak. 

T/ie.  She  has  wept  herself  to  sleep 

Pa?:  The  gods  be  thanked  !     Theano,  I  bequeath 
My  mother  to  thy  care  ;  I  go  to  the  mountains. 

T/te    Now  ?  it  grows  dark. 

Par.  All  here  is  clear  and  bright.     Farewell ! 

The.  WtaOnftriTP'rt- thon ?  nat  alone? 

Par.  The  gods 
Are  with  me  ;  so,  farewell ! 

The.  Parthenia,  hear  me. 

Par.  Away,  away  !  [Rus/ies  off  as  curtain  falls. 

END    OF   ACT    I. 


ACT  II. 


Scene  I. — In  the  Ce  venues.  A  toood,  densely  arched  with 
trees — wlierc  the  bushes  are  less  thick  is  seen  a  mass  of  wild 
rock.  In  t/te  back-ground,  l.,  a  half  extinguished,  fire,  sev- 
eral Alemanni,  clothed  in  skins,  sleeping  in  a  circle  round 
it ;  near  it,  shields,  helmets,  spears,  cups,  and  pitchers,  scat- 
tered about — in  tlie  back  ground  some  tents  of  skin. 


In  t/te  fore-ground,  r.,  lie  Ambivar,  Novio.  and  Trinobantes, 
about  a  mass-*<8f -voder  iki'vwfayi  qfaum  -IijY¥tv"-'I>waif  seen 
asleep  under  a  tree,  against  the  trunk  of  which  leafy  his 
sword  and.  shield. 

\ 

Amb.   One  throw  more,  the  stake  is  mine. 

Trin    Down — that's  what  I  call  luck. 

,T        ,T       .    .  »  » 

J\ov.   .Now  it  is  my  turn.  ^h^  £ 

Amb.  What  is  it  worth  ? 

Nov.  I  have  at  home  a  black  colt,  two  years  old, 
Fleet  as  the  winds  ;.  will  that  do  ? 

Amb.  Done  !  I  stake  two  fat  rams  against  him. 

["  While  t/iey  are  gambling. 


18  INGOMAR. 

finter  Alemanni,  l  ,  driving  on  Myron,  with  a  load  of  wood 
on  his  shoulder. 

Alem.  Now,  slave,  throw  down  thy  wood,  and  hew  it  for 
our  evening  tire  ;  here's  the  axe — be  quick.     [Exit  l. 

Myr.  It  seems  like  a  dream  ;  Oh  !  wretched  Myron  ! 
Miserable  that  you  are  !     I — I  the  slave 
Of  these  barbarians  !     I,  but  yesterday 
Massilia's  citizen,  a  happy  husband, 
Fond  father,  and  free  man — and  now  to  day 

Nov.  Drink,  slave,  drink  ! 

Amb.  [Throwing.]     'Tis  done  ;  the  colt  is  mine. 

Trin.  Ten! 

Nov.  Thunder  and  lightning  ! 

Myr.  [Aside.]     Alas  !  not  all  my  goods  would  be  enough 
To  ransom  me  from  slavery  !     And  I  am  old  : 
If -I  weee  young,  I  would  take  courage  then, 
And  try  to  escape.     Oh  l^rrlhere  iro-hope*fejM»e  ! 

Nov.  [To  Myron,  shaking  his  fist.]     Slave,  didst  hear? 
mead,  mead  !     I'll  tear  thy  deaf  ears  from  thy  skull ; 
mead,  slave,  mead  ! 

Myr,  [Hastily  seizing  a  pitcher.']     Here  is  mead  ! 

Amb.  Now,  again.*    What  is  it,  Trinobantes? 

Trin.  My  armlet  here. 

Amb.   My  belt  against  it ;  do  you  say  done  ? 

Trin.  Done ! 

Myr.  [Returns  with pitcliers.]     "Will  they  not  pay 
My  ransom  'I     Oh  !  ye  gods,  mock  not  my  trust, 
But  bring  me  home  again  ! 
And  let  me  die  in  my  dear  daughter's  arms  1 

/^•■■[■OjJUMWt'ff  tn  ftWhlWp.]    'AftUl1  'lUeui'!  'quick  quick  ! 
Slay  them  !  /  [Waking up. 

-why  !  I  have  been  dreaming ! — I  was  wounded — 

fe  battle  was  decidedV-the  day  was  ours  ' 

len,  how  they  fled  !  Xhat  booty  we  obtained  ! 

[ow  many  prisonej*!   and  yet  it  was  a  dream  ! 

Fill     1 11  LirgttJffP%ain. 

Trin.  Lost !  now  I've  had  enough  for  to-day. 

Amb.   Once  more  ! 

Samo.  'Tis  dinner-time. 

Amb.   Well — come  on — 'twas  mine. 


INGOMAR.  19 

Nov.  [Likewise  rising  ]  No  !  mine,  I  say  ! 

Amb.   Thou  liest  ! 

Nov.  [Seizing  him  by  the  throat.]     Dog.  dost  thou  play 

false  ? 
Amb.  [Stringing  his  axe  over  his  head.']     Dog  !  dogs  bite  ! 
[He  is  about  to  strike  Novio  down,  but  t/ie  blow  is  ar- 
rested by  the  latter  and  they  struggle  for  t/ie  axe. 
Ing.  [Springing  up.]  What  now  ? 
Nov.   (Struggling.)     Murderous  villain  ! 
Ing.  (Separating  them.)     Leave  hold. 
Nov.   Who  dares  ? 

Ing.  I  !     Dare  you  dispute  me  ?     Your  leader  ? 
Peace,  I  command  you. 
Nov.  Away  ! 

Amb.   (Flourishing  his  axe.)     His  blood  or  thine  ! 
Ing.  (Seizing  ii.)     Back,  back — I  say. 
But  one  step  more,  I'll  send  you  to  the  shades. 
[Driving  them  away  ]  Now,  go  at  once ; 
Climb.  Novio,  yonder  rock  ;  look  for  Alastor 
Take  thine  axe,  and  hew  us  wood — begone  ! 

Amb.   (Muttering.)  Good — the  time  will  come  ! 
Ing.  You,  Ambivar,  prepare  our  supper :   Samo, 
Bring  in  the  cattle.     Away,  all  of  you. 

[  They  go  off  at  different  sides. 
Defiance  to  me — their  chief — son  of  their  chief? 
Lightnings  of  heaven  1  (To  Myron.)  Ah,  slave,  come  here 
bring  drink. 

[Myron  hands  him  a  goblet,  from  which  lie  drinks. 
How  it  refreshes  me  !  [Throws  himself  on  a  rock. 

Now.  slave,  kill  time  for  me. 
Myr.  I? 

Ing.  What  is  your  name  1 
Myr.   Mine?  Myron,  sir! 
Ing.   (Mocking  him.)     Mine— Myron,  sir  1 
Ha  !  ha  !  so  chirps  the  linnet's  brood  in  the  nest ! 
And  then  he  looks  as  sour  as  though  he  had  swallowed 
A  sloe-bush  !  speak--  who  art  thou  ? 

Myr.   Alas  !  alas  !  [  Weeps. 

Ing.   By  all  the  gods,  what  dost  thou  whine  for  thus. 
Thou  silly  fool  ?     What  ails  thee?     Thou  hast  here 
Both  food  and  drink  in  plenty  ;  and  at  night 


20  INGOMAR. 

Thou  restest  on  soft  moss.     Once  at  our  home. 
We'll  make  a  smithy  for  thee  ;  there  thou  shalt  work 
And  hammer  as  before,  and  live  as  merrily 

Myr.  And  callest  thou  the  loss  of  liberty  nothing  ? 

Ing.  What  liberty  ?     Poor  fool,  you  make  me  laugh  ! 
Liberty  !  and  dost  thou  miss  liberty  1 
That  thou  didst  not  possess,  man,  when  we  took  thee  : 
Old  age  already  held  thee  in  its  yoke  ; 
Youth  only  is  strong,  and  strength  alone  is  free. 

Myr.  My  freedom's  lost ! 

Ing.  Fool !  what  knowest  thou  of  freedom? 
With  us  is  freedom.     She  lives  in  the  open  air  ; 
In  woods  she  dwells  ;  upon  the  rocks  she  breathes  j 
Now  here,  now  there  ;  not  caring  for  to-day- 
No,  nor  providing  for  to-morrow  ! 
Freedom  is  hunting,  feeding,  fighting,  danger  : 
That,  that  is  freedom — that  it  is  which  makes 
The  veins  to  swell,  the  breast  to  heave  and  glow. 
Ay,  that  is  freedom, — that  is  pleasure — life  ! 
But  you,  in  your  dark  walls,  a  den,  a  prison, 
You  have  life  only  to  be  sad. 

Myr.  1  was  born  in  them,  sir  : — 
'Tis  there  dwell  harmony,  law,  and  order  ; 
There  a  true  wife,  there,  a  dear  daughter  j  all 
The  best  things  I  possess  on  earth  are  there. 
Oh,  my  poor  wife  !  my  daughter  ! 

Ing.  Old  fool !  What  ?  tears  again,  tears  about  women  ! 
Why,  thou  art  thyself  a  woman.     What  are  thev  ? 
Vain,  foolish  playthings,  only  born  to  bear. 
And  serve  ;  to  eat  and  drink  ; 
To  squat  among  the  cattle,  feed  the  children  ; 
To  oil  their  hair,  and  look  at  themselves  in  brooks. 
Women  !  were  I  a  god, 

And  had  the  world  to  make,  I'd  make  no  women  ! 
And  thou  crying  for  women  ! — out  of  my  sight, 
Old  baby  !  [Laughing. 

Myr.  Sir,  thou  art  angry  ;  yet  wcrt  thou, 
Like  me,  a  wretched  slave ■ 

Ing.  I  ?  I  a  slave.     When  Ingomar  shall  fall, 
Uncouquered  will  he  mount  among  the  gods  ! 


INGOMAR.  21 

(A  /torn  is  heard.)      Hush!  silence!  yonder  is   Alastor's 

horn  :  [Myron  retiies  up  stage. 

They're  here  ! 

Enter  Novio,  l. 

Ing.   (  To  Novio  )     Is  it  they  ?     Speak  ! 

Novio.   Yes.   Yonder  come  they  through  the  valley  : 
Alastcr,  hastening  before  the  rest, 
Climbs  nimbly  up  the  cliff.     Look,  he  is  here  ! 

Enter  Alastor.  luistily.from  back  of  stage.     Alcmanni  enter 
from  different  parts,  and  gather  round  him. 

Lig.   How  now,  Alastor.  what  hast  brought?  what  news  ? 
what  booty  ? 

Alas.  None,  I  come  with  empty  hands. 

Jng.  Dost  thou  speak  true  1     The  citizens  of  Avenna 
Send  every  year  their  fat  herds  to  the  pasture 
Upon  the  mountains.     Met  you  none  of  these  ? 

Alas.  No.  not  a  single  hoof. 

Ing.  Bad  news,  indeed. 
So  thou  bringest  ? 

Alas    Nothing!   {Some  laugh,  some  grumble.)  Yet  stay — 
one  thing  I've  brought. 
A  fanciful  pretty  thing  of  a  girl. 

Nov.  What !  a  woman  ?     Aha,  that's  good  ? 
What  do  we  want  with  women  ? 

Ing.  A  girl? 

Alas.  She  gave  herself  up  to  us.     We  lay  in  wait 
In  the  thicket  yonder,  watching  for  the  cattle, 
When  steps  rustled  in  the  distance,  voices  were  heard, 
And  she  came  hastily  bounding  along, 
Heedless  of  the  stony  path  or  burning  sun. 
Then  rushed  we  out :  the  boy  who  was  her  guide 
Fled  ;  but  she  stood  there  still,  and  keeping  off 
Our  out-stretched  weapons  with  her  naked  hand, 
Cried,  '  Hold — I  seek  ye — are  ye  Alemanni?' 

Ing.  Ah.  a  brave  girl ! 

Nov.  '  And  you  ? 

Alas.   We  laughed.     Thou  seekest  us  said  we  ; 
Now  thou  hast  found  us,  thou  art  become  our  booty  ; 
But  she,  freeing  herself  angrily  from  our  grasp. 


22  INGOMAR. 

Cried,  '  No,  no.  not  your  booty — I  am  come 
To  treat  for  rausom  for  your  slave  ;  and  so 
Give  me  safe  escort  to  your  chief 

Myr.  (Apart,  advancing?)     A  ransom  for  3Tour  slave  ! 

In™.   If  so.  she  speaks  the  truth — she  has  free  escort. 

A/as.  So.  at  that  word,  we  liberated  her, 
Tc  guide  her  on  her  way  to  Ingomar. 
She  followed  us  with  rapid  steps,  and  if 
We  turned,  she  drew  herself  up  thus,  and  waved 
Her  hand  like  this.     Ha  !  ha  !      You  would  have  thought 
She  was  the  chief,  and  we  but  her  attendants. 

Tri?i.  Ah  !  she  has  a  heart  in  her  body  ! 

Ing.  For  what  slave's  ransom  come  she  ? 

Alas.   For  Myron's  of  Massilia. 

Ing.  For  him  !  the  crying  baby — the  old  woman  ! 

Myr.  Freed,  ransomed,  and  by  her  ! 
(To  A/as/or.)     Oh.  tell  me — say,  has  she  not  glossy  hair, 
Her  tyes  bright,  and  her  limbs  like  the  young  fawn's, 
Her  voice  sweet  as  the  nightingale's  ?  so  sweet ! 
OL  say.  sir,  is  it  not  my  child  1 

Alas.  See  for  yourself,  she  is  here  ! 

Enter  Pahthenia,  l.  u  e..  surrounded  by  several  Alemanni. 

Myr.   ( Rush  ing  to  meet  her.) 
Parthenia.  my  child  !  my  dear,  dear  child  ! 
'Tis  thou  !  thine  eyes  beam  on  me.     Oh  3-e  gods, 
Let  me  not  go  mad  ! 

Par.   (Embracing  him  )     My  dear  father  ! 

Ing.  (Laugliing  )     There,  there — he  cries  again  !  Ye 
gods  of  thunder. 
The  fellow's  like  a  rain  cloud  ! 

Alas    A  truce  to  tears  and  whimpering.     Woman, 
Thou  seekest  Ingomar — this  is  he 

Ing.  They  say  thou'rt  come  to  treat  for  this  man's  ransom. 
What  is  thy  offer  ? 

Par.  Jewels  of  more  value 

Than  all  the  gold  of  earth  ;   a  faithful  wife's 
Prayers  to  her  latest  breath — a  daughter's  tears — 
A  rescued  household's  deathless  gratitude — 
The  blessing  of  the  gods  whose  liberal  hands 
Recompense  deeds  of  mercy,  thousand  fold. 


INGOMAR.  23 

Look — kneeling  at  your  feet,  a  fainting  child 
Implores  a  gray-haired  father's  liberty. 
He  is  intirm.  old,  valueless  to  you ; 
But,  oh,  how  precious  to  his  widowed  home  ! 
Give  him,  then  up — oh,  give  him  to  me. 

Ing.  Give  him  ! 

Amb.  Is  that  the  ransom  ? 

Alas.  Ear  uathing  !  has  she  deceived  -ns  2 

Ing.  Silence  ! 
Woman,  thy  father  is  booty  to  our  tribe  ; 
Were  he  but  mine,  I;d  give  him  to  thee  freely, 
If  only  to  be  rid  of  his  tears  and  sighs 
But  if  thou  hast  deceived  us,  and  dost  dare— — - 

Par.   {Suddenly  rising.)     Enough — 
There  need  no  threats.     I  but  misunderstood  you, 
Thinking  you  had  human  hearts — I'll  mend  of  that, 
And  speak  now  to  your  interests. 
You  ask  gold  for  his  ransom — he  has  none  ; 
But  he  has  strength  and  skill  that  yet  may  earn  it; 
With  opportunity  afforded  him. 
Here  there  is  none — he  cannot  pay  a  drachma. 
Keep  him,  and  slavery,  knawing  his  free  heart, 
In  a  few  weeks  shall  leave  you  but  his  bones. 
But  set  him  free,  my  mother  and  myself 
Will  labor  with  him ;  we  will  live  on  crusts, 
And  all  the  surplus  of  our  daily  toil 
Be  yours,  till  the  full  ransom  be  accomplished. 

Ing.   That's  not  without  some  sense  ;  but  where  is  our 
surety, 
The  compact  should  be  kept  1 

Par.  It  shall  not  fail 

For  lack  of  that — I'll  leave  with  you  a  pledge 
Dearer  to  him  than  liberty  or  life. 

Ing.   Hast  brought  it  with  thee  ? 

Par.  Ay. 

Ing.  Show  it. 

Par.  Myself. 

Myr.   Child — thou  art  mad  ! 

Ing.  Thyself? 

Par.  If  you  but  knew 
How  precious  to  him  is  his  child,  you'd  not 


24 


INGOMAR. 


Despise  the  hostage. 

Myr.  No — this  shall  not  be  ! 

Ing.  We  did  not  ask  your  counsel : 
It's  a  strange  fancy,  and  yet — psha !  no,  no, 
Earthen  us  with  a  woman  ! 

Par.  No — no  burthen  : 

I'll  be  a  help  to  you  ;  these  willing  hands 
Shall  do  more  work  than  twenty  pining  slaves; 
You  do  not  guess  my  usefulness ;   I  spin. 
Can  weave  your  garments,  and  prepare  your  meals, 
Am  skilled  in  music, and  can  tell  brave  tales. 
And  sing  sweet  songs  to  lull  you  to  repose. 
I  am  strong,  too — healthy  both  in  mind  and  body; 
And.  when  my  heart's  at  ease,  my  natural  temper 
Is  always  joyous,  happy,  gay.     Oh,  fear  not  ? 

Ing.  Trotb  !  there's  some  use  in  that;  thy  father  can 
Only  cry.  — 

Par.  Say  yes — say  yes,  and  set  him  free  ! 

Myr.   (Distractedly.)     No,  she  is  mad — 

Ing.  Silence!  Comrades,  "what  think  you?  speak! 

[He  rd/ires  with  Trincbantes      Myron  and  Parlhenia 
arc  left  alone  in  the  front. 

Myr.   Unhappy  girl  what  wouldst  thou  do  ? 

Par.  My  father. 
Thou  shalt  be  free. 

Myr    Would  not  our  friends, — the  Timarch 

Par.  All,  all  were  deaf;  and  so  alone  I  came 
To  break  thy  chains. 

Myr.  Oh,  that  I  had  never  lived 
To  hear  these  words  !     Better  to  see  thee  fall 
In  the  bear's  den  than  here  to  be  with  these 
"Whom  nature  but  made  human  out  of  scorn. 
And  thou,  my  child  !  [Talcing  her  to  his  bosom. 

No.  no  ! 

Par.   Father,  it  must  ho  so;  my  mother  grieves — 
Oh.  dry  her  tears.     I  am  yet  young  and  strong  ; 
I  could  bear  easily  what  would  kill  thee — 
Father,  be  free,  and  let  me  stay  ! 

Myr    Here,  where  death  threatens  thee?  ay,  worse   than 
death. 
Violence,  insult ! — never  !  sooner  this  dasher 


1NG0MAR.  25 

Par.  [Snatching  it  from  him.) 
Give  it  to  me.  and  fear  not.     1  will  live 
Worthy  of  thee  or  die  ! 

Ing.  {Parleying  toith  his  troop  in  back  ground.) 
I  will  it  so — the  girl  shall  stay. 

Trin,  Let  us  keep  both. 

Ing.  No,  that  would  be  dishonest ;  she  has  come 
Trusting,  and  shall  not  be  deceived. 

[Advancing  to  Parthenia. 
Woman,  your  wish  is  granted  ;  we  take  thee 
As  hostage  for  the  other,  and  he  is  free. 

Par.  Be  thanked,  ye  gods  ! 

Myr.  No,  no  !  I  am  yoar  slave, 
And  will  remain — let  her  return. 

Ing.  Who  cares  what  you  desire  ?     Away  with  thee  ! 

Myr.  My  child  !  [Clinging  to  her. 

Par.  Go,  go  my  father. 

Trin.   {Seizing  Myron.)     Quick — away,  away  ! 

Par.  No,  seize  him  not  so  roughly — see,  he  goes— 
Willingly  goes — away— delay  no  longer — 
Go,  go. 

Myr.  Villains,  I  will  return,  for  the  destruction  of  you  all ! 

Amb.  Strike  him  dead  ! 

Par.  Oh,  save  him  ! 

Ing.  No,  send  him  forth  in  safety — 
'Tis  my  command. 

Tec.   Away  with  him  ! 

Myr.   (Forced  along  by  Alemanni.)     Parthenia,  my  child, 
Farewell !  {Exit  l.,  dragged  off  by  the  Alemanni. 

Par.  Farewell ! 
He  is  gone,  and  I  shall  never  see  him  more  ! 

[She  clasps  Iter  hands  before  her  face,  and  stands  sob- 
bing in  the  foreground. 

Ing.  [Who  lias  been  standing  on  a  rock  looking  at  the  pro- 
ceedings of  his  folloicers. 
No  violence  !   Ho  !  how  he  runs  !  and  now 
He  stops  and  cries  again  !     Poor  fearful  fool ! 
It  must  be  strange  to  fear  :  now,  by  my  troth, 
I  should  like  to  feel,  for  once,  what  'tis  to  fear  ! 
But  the  girl ;  (leaning  forward.)     Ha  !  do  I  see  right  ? 
you  weep  !  [  To  Parthenia. 


26  INGOMAR. 

Is  that  the  happy  temper  that  you  boast? 

Par.   Oh,  I  shall  never  see  him  more. 

Ing.  What !  have  we 
For  a  silly  old  man,  got  now  a  foolish 
And  timid  weeping  girl  ?     I  have  had  enough 
Of  tears. 

Par.  Enough,  indeed,  since  you  but  mock  them  ! 
I  will  not — no,  I'll  weep  no  more. 

[She  quickly  dries  her  eyes,  and  retires  to  the  back- 
ground. 

Ing.  That's  good ;  come,  that  looks  well  ; 
She  is  a  brave  girl  !  she  rules  herself,  and  if 
She  keep  her  word,  we  have  made  a  good  exchange — 
'  I'll  weep  no  more.'     Aha  !  I  like  the  girl. 

And  if Ho  !  whither  goest  thou  1 

[  To  Parthenia  who  is  going  off  with  tzvo  goblets. 

Par.  Where  should  I  go  1  to  yonder  brook,  to  cleanse 
the  cups. 

Ing.  No  !  stay  and  talk  with  me. 

Par.  I  have  duties  to  perform.  [Going. 

Ing.  Stay— I  command  you,  slave  ! 

Par.  I  am  no  slave  !  your  hostage,  but  no  slave. 
I  go  to  cleanse  the  cups.  [  Exit  l. 

Ing.  Ho  !  here's  a  self-willed  thing— here  is  a  spirit ! 

[Mimicking  her. 
£  I  will  not.  I  am  no  slave  !  I  have  duties  to  perform  ! 
Take  me  for  hostage  !'  and  she  flung  back  her  head 
As  though  she  brought  with  her  a  ton  of  gold  ! 
1  I'll  weep  no  more.'— Aha  !  an  impudent  thing. 
She  pleases  me  !     I  love  to  be  opposed  ; 
I  love  my  horse  when  he  rears,  my  dogs  when  they  snarl, 
The  mountain  torrent,  and  the  sea,  when  it  flings 
Its  foam  up  to  the  stars  ;  such  things  as  these 
Fill  me  with  life  and  joy.     Tame  indolence 
Is  living  death  !  the  battle  of  the  strong 
Alone  is  life  ! 

[During  this  speech  Parthenia  has  returned  with  the 
cups  and  a  bundle  of  field  flowers.  She  seats  Jierself 
on  a  piece  of  rock  in  front. 

Ing.  Ah  !  she   is   here   again.     {He  approac/ies  her,  and 
leans  over  Iter  on  the  rock.)     What  art  thou  making  there  1 


INGOMAR.  27 

Par.  I?  garlands. 

Ing.  Garlands  ? 

[Musing.']     It  seems  to  me  as  I  before  had  seen  her 
In  a  dream  !  How  !  Ah.  my  brother  ! — he  who  died 
A  child — yes.  that  is  it.     My  little  Folko — 
She  has  his  dark  brown  hair,  his  sparkling  eye  : 
Even  the  voice  seems  known  again  to  me  : 
I'll  not  to  sleep— I'll  talk  to  her.  [Returns  to  her. 

These  you  call  garlands, 
And  wherefore  do  you  weave  them  ? 

Par.  For  these  cups. 

Ing.  How? 

Par.  Is  it  not  with  you  a  custom  ?     With  us 
At  home,  we  love  to  intertwine  with  flowers, 
Our  cups  and  goblets. 

Ing.  What  use  is  such  a  plaything  ? 

Par.  Use '?   They  are  beautiful ;  that  is  their  use. 
The  sight  of  them  makes  glad  the  eye  ;  their  scent 
Refreshes,  cheers.     There 

[Fastens  the  half-jiaislied  garland  round  a  cup,  and 
presents  it  to  him.]     Is  not  that,  now,  beautiful? 

Ing.  Ay — by  the  bright  sun  !    That  dark  green   mixed  up 
With  the  gay  flowers  !   Thou  must  teach  our  women 
To  weave  such  garlands. 

Pa?:  That  is  soon  done  :  thy  wife 
Herself  shall  soon  weave  wreaths  as  well  as  I. 

Ing.  (Laughing heartily.)     My  wife  !  my  wife  !  a  woman 
Dost  thou  say  ? 
I  thank  the  gods,  not  L     This  is  my  wife — 

[Pointing  to  his  accoutrements. 
My  spear,  my  shield,  my  .«word  ;  let  him  who  will. 
Waste  cattle,  slaves,  or  gold,  to  buy  a  woman  ; 
Not  I — not  I  ! 

Par.  To  buy  a  woman  ? — how  1 

Ing.  What  is  the  matter  ?  why  dost  look  so  strangely  ? 

Par.  How  !  did  I  hear  aright  ?  bargain  for  brides 
As  you  would  slaves — buy  them  like  cattle  ? 

Ing.  Well,  I  think  a  woman  fit  only  for  a  slave. 
We  follow  our  own  customs,  as  you  yours. 
How  do  you  in  your  city  there  % 

Par.  Consult  our  hearts. 


28  INGOMAR. 

Massilia's  free-born  daughters  are  not  sold, 

But  bound  by  choice  with  bands  as  light  and  sweet 

As  these  I  hold.     Love  only  buys  us  there. 

Ing.  Marry  for  love — what !  do  you  love  your  husbands  1 

Par.  Why  marry  else  ? 

Ing.  Marry  for  love ;  that's  strange  ! 
I  cannot  comprehend.     I  love  my  horse, 
My  dogs,  my  brave  companions — but  no  woman  ! 
What  dost  thou  mean  by  love — what  is  it,  girl? 

Par.  What  is  it  ?     'Tis  of  all  things  the  most  sweet — 
The  heaven  of  life— or,  so  my  mother  says, 
I  never  felt  it. 

Big.  Never  ? 

Par.  No,  indeed.  [Looking  at  garland. 

Now  look  how  beautiful !     Here  would  I  weave 
Red  flowers  if  I  had  them. 

Ing.  Yonder  there, 

In  that  thick  wood  they  grow. 

Par.  How  sayest  thou  ? 

{Looking  off.)     Oh.  what  a  lovely  red  !     Go>  pluck  me  some. 

Ing.  {Starting  at  the  suggestion.)     I  go  for  thee  ?  the 
master  serve  the  slave  ! 

[Gazing  on  her  with  increasing  interest. 
And  yet,  why  not  ?  I'll  go — the  poor  child's  tired. 

Par.  Dost  thou  hesitate  ? 

Ing.  No,  thou  shalt  have  the  flowers, 
As  fresh  and  dewy  as  the  bush  affords.         [He  goes  off.  r. 

Par.  {Holding  out  the  wreath.) 
I  never  yet  succeeded  half  so  well. 
It  will  be  charming  !  Charming  ?  and  for  whom  1 
Here  among  savages  !  no  mother  here 
Looks  smiling  on  it — I  am  alone,  forsaken  ! 
But  no,  I'll  weep  no  more  !     No.  none  shall  say  I  fear  ! 

Re-enter  Ingomar,  toith  a  bunch  of  flowers,  and  slowly 
advancing  towards  Parthenia 

Ing.   (Aside.)   The  little  Folko,  when  in  his  play  he  wanted 
Flowers  or  fruit,  would  so  cry  '  Bring  them  to  me ; 
Quick  !  I  will  have  them — these  I  will  have  or  none  ;' 
Till  somehow  he  compelled  me  to  obey  him, 
And  she.  with  the  same  spirit,  the  same  tire — 


IXGOMAR.  29 

Yes,  there  is  much  of  the  bright  child  in  her  ■ 

Well,  she  shall  be  a  little  brother  to  rue  ! 

There  are  the  flowers.  [He  hands  her  the  flowers. 

Par.  Thanks,  thanks.     Oh.  thou  hast  broken  them 
Too  short  off  in  the  stem. 

[She  throws  some  of  them  on  the  ground. 

Ing.  Shall  I  go  and  get  thee  more? 

Par.   No.  these  will  do. 

Ing.  Tell  me  now  about  your  home — I  will  sit  here, 
Near  thee. 

Par.  Not  there  :  thou  art  crushing  all  the  flowers. 

Ing.   ( Seating  himself  at  her  feet. ) 
Well,  well ;  I  will  sit  here,  then.     And  now  tell  me, 
What  is  your  name  ! 

Par.  Parthenia, 

Ing.  Parthenia ! 

A  pretty  name  !  and  now,  Parthenia,  tell  me 
How  that  which  you  call  love  grows  in  the  soul ; 
And  what  love  is  :  'tis  strange,  but  in  that  word 
There's  something  seems  like  yonder  ocean — fathomless. 

Par.   How  shall  I  say  1     Love  comes,  my  mother  says. 
Like  flowers  in  the  night — reach  me  those  violets 
It  is  a  flame  a  single  look  will  kindle. 
But  not  an  ocean  quench. 
Fostered  by  dreams,  excited  by  each  thought, 
Love  is  a  star  from  heaven,  that  points  the  way 
And  leads  us  to  its  home — a  little  spot 
In  earth's  dry  desert,  where  the  soul  may  rest — 
A  grain  of  gold  in  the  dull  sand  of  life — 
A  foretaste  of  Elysium  ;  but  when, 
Weary  of  this  world's  woes,  the  immortal  gods 
Flew  to  the  skies,  with  all  their  richest  gifts, 
Love  stayed  behind,  self-exiled  for  man's  sake  ! 

Ing.  I  never  yet  heard  aught  so  beautiful ! 
But  still  I  comprehend  it  not. 

Par.  Nor  I : 

For  I  have  never  felt  it ;  yet  I  know 
A  song  my  mother  sang,  an  ancient  song, 
That  plainly  speaks  of  love,  at  least  to  me. 
How  goes  it  ?  stay — 

[Slowly,  as  trying  to  recollect. 


30  INGOMAR. 

'  What  love  is,  if  thou  wouldst  be  taught, 

Thy  heart  must  teach  alone, — 
Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought, 

Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one.' 

'  And  whence  comes  love  1  like  morning's  light, 

It  comes  without  thy  call ; 
And  how  dies  love  1— A  spirit  bright, 

Love  never  dies  at  all !' 

And  when — and  when 

[Hesitating,  as  unable  to  continue. 
Ing.  Go  on. 
Par.  I  know  no  more. 
Ing.  (Impatiently.*)     Try — Try. 
Par.  I  cannot  now  ;  but  at  some  other  time 
I  may  remember. 

Ing.  (Somewhat  authoritatively  )     Now,  go  on,  I  say. 
Par.  (Springing  up  in  alarm.)     Not  now,  I  want  more 
roses  for  my  wreath  ! 
Yonder  they  grow,  I  will  fetch  them  for  myself. 
Take  care  of  all  my  flowers  and  the  wreath  ! 

[Throics  tlie flowers  into  Ingomar's  lap  and  runs  off. 
Ing.  (After  apause,  without  changing  his  position,  speak  ■ 
ing  to  himself  in  deep  abstraction.) 

'  Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought, 
Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one.' 

[  The  curtain  falls. 

END   OF    ACT    II. 


ACT    III. 

SCENE  I—  As  before. 

Enter  Alastor.   Ambivar,  Trinobantes,  Samo,  and  other 
Ale?nanni,  r.  and  l. 

Trin.  Well,  Alastor,  and  what  says  he? 

Alas.   Oil,  the  old  reply — still,  still  to-morrow. 

Ami    Thunder  and  lightning  !  thus  to  linger  here  !     If  we 


INGOMAR.  31 

join  them  not  soon,  those  at  home  will  begin  the  war  against 
the  Allobrogi  without  us,  and  deny  us  all  share  of  the  spoil. 
Why  not  choose  another  chief?  Ingomar  has  become  a 
woman :  he  leaves  the  chase  and  our  company,  to  loll  on  the 
grass  with  this  Greek  girl,  hearing  her  tales  and  songs.  I  say, 
choose  another  chief — I'll  lead  you. 

Alas.  No. — no  chief  but  Ingomar.  Let  us  but  get  this 
girl  away,  and  he  will  be  himself  again. 

Samo.  But  she  is  his. 

Trin.  Not  so  : — she  is  ours  as  much  ;  but  what  shall  we  do 
with  her? 

Amb.  Sell  her  for  a  slave  to  the  merchants  from  Carthage. 
Now  on  the  far  off  sea  a  ship  of  theirs  appears.  Let  us  look 
eut  and  hail  them  ;  then  seize  the  girl,  and  sell  her  to  them. 
They  will  give  us  arms  and  armlets  for  her. 

A/as.  Silence — he  is  here  ;  one  trial  more  I  away  with  you. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Alastor,  l. 

Enter  Ingomar.,  slowly,  R.  u.  e. 

Ing.  Home,  home  \     Ay,  to  their  home,  but  not  to  mine, 
For  here  appears  my  home  !     It  seems  to  me 
As  here  I  was  born,  as  here  my  eyes  first  saw 
The  light,  my  heart  first  felt,  my  soul  first  thought. 
Here,  here. 

Alas.  Now,  Ingomar,  once  more  we  ask  of  thee,  when  wilt 
thou  break  the  camp  up,  and  return  ?     Thou  bearest  me  not. 

Ing.  Oh,  ah  !  Alastor — yes  !  thou  earnest  to  tell  me  the 
fish  are  all  exhausted  from  the  brook  ;  the  wild  beasts  scared 
from  the  forests  ;  and  there  is  scarcely  food  left  sufficient  'or 
the  cattle. 

Alas.  It  is  so.  Nor  is  that  all :  the  time  approaches  when 
our  people  at  home,  to  avenge  the  old  insult,  have  resolved 
upon  an  inroad  on  the  Allobrogi ;  and  shall  we  miss  it? 

Ing.  Miss  it!  I? — Ingomar?  Thunder  and  lightning 
shall  sooner  fail  the  storm  than  I  the  strife  !  the  war  !  Where 
are  the  others  ? 

A/as.  Encamped  yonder  upon  the  moss,  waiting  your 
orders. 

Ing.  Give  them  mead  so  long  as  the  stock  lasts,  and  let 
them  drink. 

Alas.  What,  do  we  not  break  up  ? 


32 


INGOMAR. 


Ing.  I  will  consider  of  it  till  to-morrow. 

Alas.  Again  to  morrow  7 

Ing.  Yes,  to-morrow,  I  said.     Go  ! 

Alas.  Changed  thou  seemest  to  roe  in  word  and  nature, 
and  scarcely  now  I  know  thee.     Well,  then,  to-morrow- 

[Exit  l. 

Ing.  (Solus.)     Scarce  know  me  !  true — I  scarcely  know 
myself. 
"What  ails  me  ? — am  1  ill  then  ?     Yes,  that  is  it. 
I  am  bewildered  in  a  feverish  dream  ; 
And  my  thoughts  ramble  to  I  know  not  where. 

[Throws  himself  on  a  fragment  of  rock — after  a  pause. 
I  struck  a  roe  once  with  my  arrow,  while 
Close  by  my  victim's  side,  who  soaked  the  turf 
Around  her  with  her  blood,  her  young  one  stood, 
Ignorant  of  its  danger  ;  as  I  drew  near 
To  take  up  the  dead  mother  on  my  shoulder, 
The  fawn  sprang  to  me,  and  even  took  its  food 
Out  of  my  hand,  loooking  up  in  my  face, 
With  its  dark,  innocent  eyes.     'Tis  strange,  I  ever 
Think  of  those  eyes  when  I  behold  that  girl's, 
Now  sparkling  in  their  pride,  now  bright  in  confidence, 
As  carelessly  she  lets  her  soul  appear — 
Her  childlike  soul.  [Springing  up. 

What  1     She — and  she  again,  and  always  she 
By  all  the  gods,  has  Ingomar  nothing  better 
To  think  of  than  a  woman  and  her  looks  : 
Than  a  slave's  eyes  ? 

[Clashing  of  arms  and  shouts  ^veard  unthou*.. 
Hark  !  how  amid  their  revelry 
They  raise  the  battle-cry      The  clang  of  arms, 
And  war,  and  victory  for  me  ! — Away 
With  idle  dreams  !  why,  what  to  me  are  women  ? 
Yet  she— ah  !  she  is  not  like  those  at  home, 
Clad  in  their  shaggy  skins,  sunburned,  their  bodies 
Loaded  with  clumsy  ornaments,  happy  in  bondage, 
With  base  caresses  humbly  seeking  favor 

Of  their  coarse  lords.     But  she 

[Slwuts  and  cries  again  lieard. 
That  cry  again  ! 
In  vain  !  in  vain  !  no  echo  answers  you, 


INGOMAR.  33 

Among  the  pulses  of  my  heart.     I — oh,  I  am  sick  ! 
What  ails  me  ?     Yes.  I  am  ill — sick. 

[  Throws  himself  again  on  the  rock. 

^nter  Parthenia,  toith  a  little  baslcet  on  her  arm. 
She  advances  witlwut  observing  Ingomar. 

Par.  My  tender  father,  my  poor  mother,  now 
Think  on  their  child  :  they  fancy  me,  perhaps, 
Tormented,  ill-used,  dead.     But  how  much  hotter 
Has  it  fared  with  me  than  I  could  have  dared 
To  hope  !     These  men  are  wild,  indeed,  and  rough, 
But  yet  not  cruel.     And  for  Ingomar, 
He  is  kind  and  gentle  ;  yet,  at  times,  how  fierce 
He  looks!  as  if  he'd  kill  me.     (Looking  around.)     Ah  !  he 
is  here. 

Ing.   (Rising.)     Thou  !  from  whence  comest  thou  ? 

Par.  I  have  been  picking  berries 
In  yonder  wood  ;  see,  here  is  a  basket  full. 
Wilt  thou 

Ing.  No  !  no  ! 

Par.  l  No,  no  !'     No,  thank  you,  I  think 

Were  quite  as  easily  said  as  '  no  !' — no,  thank  you — 
Dost  hear  ?     Why  dost  thou  gaze  upon  me  thus  1 

Ing.  Away  !  leave  me — I  would  be  alone. 

Parthenia  turns  to  depart. 
No,  stay  ! 

Stay  with  me,  Parthenia. 
Oh.  that  thou  wert  a  man  ! 

Par.  A  man ! 

Ing.   Oh,  then  would  all  be  right,  and  happy  ?     Ay, 
Thou  shouldst  be  my  companion  in  the  chase, 
My  brother  in  arms ;  and  I  would  be  to  thee 
Like  to  thy  shadow, — I  would  watch  over  thee 
Whilst  thou  wert  sleeping — would  refresh  thee 
When  thou  wert  weary.     As  the  sea  reflects 
The  heavens,  or  as  the  brook  the  bright  blue  flowers 
That  blow  upon  its  banks,  so  would  my  soul 
Mirror  each  thought  of  thine  !  thy  smiles  were  mine  ; 
Thy  griefs,  too,  mine.     Oh  !  we  would  share  together 
All  things  in  life.  [Slowly  to  himself. 


34  INGOMAR. 

'  Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought, 
Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one.' 

Par.  Why,  that  in  the  old  song  my  mother  taught  me. 

Ing.  That  is  the  song  that  burns  in  my  brain — 
The  lightning  that  illuminates  the  clouds  ! 
Didst  thou  not  tell  me  once,  love  was  a  fire 
That  a  look  kindles,  and  that  dreams  do  foster  1 
Yes,  it  is  true  ;  it  maddens  here  ;  and  high, 
High  as  the  heaven,  rises  its  flame. 

Par.  What,  love  ? 

Ing.  Love,  thou  didst  tell  me,  did  thy  mother  say, 
Love  was  a  star  to  lead  us  on  to  heaven. 
Come,  then,  oh  come  !  its  rays  glitter  before  us; 
And  bright  and  clear,  they  light  us  on  our  way. 

Par.  How  his  eyes  sparkle,  his  cheeks  glow  !  ye  goas 

Ing.  Let  the  gods  rest  in  the  bosem  of  the  clouds  ; 
Let  them  take  with  them  still  whatever  the  world 
Possessed  of  good — love,  only  love,  thou  saidst, 
They  have  forgotten, — loving  let  us  be  then, 
And  happy.  [Laying  Jwld  of  her  by  the  hands. 

Par.  Away  ! 

Ing.  {Passionately.)     Thus,  thus  I  seize  thee — Parthenia 
thou  art  mine. 

Par.  {Starting  back  in  alarm.)     Ho  !  stand  off — away  ! 
Another  step,  and  I  lie  dead  before  thee. 

[Draioing  her  dagger  and  pointing  it  to  lier  breast. 

Ing.  Hold,  hold  !  Why  do  I  pause  1  what  terror  strikes  me  ? 
Am  I  not  Jngomar,  and  is  not  she 
My  slave  1 

How  angrily  her  eyes  gleam  on  me  ; 
I  never  feared,  yet  her  eyes  make  me  fear  ! 

Par.   Oh  !  most  unhappy  !  lost ! 

Ing.                                       I  have  frightened  thee. 
I  was  too  rash.     I  know,  rude  is  my  nature, 
And  rough  my  manners ;  yet  my  love 

Par.  Thy  love  ! 
This  is  not  love  !     The  love  whose  mystic  dream 
Has  filled  my  heart  and  thought,  is  not  a  thing 
Of  insult,  injury,  as  you  now  show  to  me. 
It  is  a  feeling  all  unselfish,  gentle  ; 
One  which  exalts,  ennobles.     If  a  fire, 


INGOMAR.  35 

It  is  to  warm,  to  cheer,  and  comfort,  not 

To  blast  and  scorch.     Away,  away  !  profane  not 

She  sacred  name.     This  may  be  violence, 

Passion,  but  never  love  !  [About  to  go. 

Ing.  {Imperiously  )   Remain.  I  say  ! 
Knowest  who  I  am  1  the  chief  among  my  people  ! 
The  reputation  of  my  deeds  resounds 
Throughout  these  mountains,  and  I  am  thy  master. 
Girl,  who  art  thou  ? 

Par.  Who  am  1 1     I  am  Parthenia — 
An  armorer's  child  indeed,  but  yet  a  Greek — 
Massilia's  free-born  daughter,  nourished 
On  a  pure  mother's  breast,  cradled  in  the  arms 
Of  beauty  and  refinement,  reared  from  childhood 
In  the  holy  service  of  our  righteous  gods  ! 
While  thou — thou  art  the  rude  forest's  outlaw  son, 
A  savage — a  barbarian — desolater 
Of  the  fair  land — a  cattle-stealer.     Know, 
That  we  at  home  flog  thieves,  and  hang  up  robbers  ! 

Ing.  Darest  thou 

Par.  And  now  thou  knowest  who  I  am, 
And  who  thou  art ! 

Ing.  Scorn  and  derision  !  scorn 

To  me  !     Now  then,  by  all  the  gods,  I'll  teach  thee 
How  we  treat  slaves  ! 

Par.  You  tame  them  with  the  whip, 

With  hunger,  pain,  and  thirst.     But  your  slaves  love  not, 
They  only  hate,  despise,  as  I  do  thee  ! 

Ing.  Be  silent,  or 

Par.  No  !  for  I  scorn,  deride  thee. 

big.  Thy  life  ! 

Par.  Take  it  ! 

Ing.   (Rushing  at  Iter  icith  his  sword  drawn  and  sud- 
denly stopping.)  No,  no,  I  cannot ;  rage 
Inflames  my  blood — my  brain  will  burst. 
Oh,  I  could  tear  the  world,  myself,  in  pieces. 

[  Throws  himself  violently  on  tlie  ground. 

Par.   (After  a  pause.')     How  is  this?     his  sword  lies  at 
my  feet,  which  now 
Gleamed  threatening  at  my  heart !  and  he  struck  down 
And  almost  senseless  !   Was  I  too  harsh  with  him  ? 


36 


INGOMAR. 


Whence  came  the  sudden  rage  that  filled  my  breast — 
This  pride,  this  arrogance  ?     Do  I  see  aright  1 
He  weeps  !     Why  weepest  thou,  Ingomar? 

Ing.    (Springing  up.)     I  weep?     !Tis  false — I  do  not 
weep      Despise  me  !  me — 
The  pride  and  boast  of  all  my  race,  the  terror 
Of  mine  enemies  !  by  the  bright  sun  ! 

\After  a  pause,  looking  sternly  on  her. 
Depart ! 
Go,  I  can  do  without  thee ;  I  can — I  can. 
Depart — thou  art  free  !  dost  hear  ?  free  as  myself ; 
Go  to  thy  home — away,  do  not  delay  ! 
Thy  breath  infests  me  with  a  feverish  beat ! 
Thy  sight  is  poison  ! — Go,  go,  go  !  [He  rushes  out. 

Par.  How  ?  free  ! 

Did  he  say  free  ?  and  shall  again  my  mother, 
My  father,  open  to  me  their  arms  2     And  yet 
Can  I  leave  him  in  anger  ?  him  who  made 
The  yoke  of  slavery  so  light  to  me  7 
Who  now  has  given  me  freedom,  though  in  rage  ? 
No,  no,  I'll  wait — he  will  return,  and  then 
A  kind  word  from  my  lips  perhaps  will  calm 
And  soften  him.     Then  with  a  lightened  heart 
Shall  I  return 

[She  seats  herself  on  a  rock,  while  from  behind 

Enter  Samo,  Novio,  and  Ambivar. 

Samo.  Ah  !  she  is  alone  ;  the  boat  approaches  the  shore  ; 
now  seize  her. 

[Novio  and  Ambivar  advance  and  take  hold  of  her. 
Par.  Ah  !  ruffians,  what  would  you  ? 
Nov.  Away  with  her  to  the  beach 
Par.  Villains,  unhand  me. 
Anib.  Silence,  worm ! 
Par.  Ingomar  !  help  !  save  me,  Ingomar  ! 

[  They  drag  her  off. 
Ing.   (  Without.)     Who  calls  there  ?  was  it  not  her  voice  ? 

Enter  Ingomar,  r. 

In sr.  Ambivar  ?     A  sword — a  sword. 


INGOMAR.  37 

[Seizes  tlie  sword  which  he  had  before  let  fall  on  the 
ground. 
Ah  !  here  villains — hold,  hold. 

[Rushes  after  them.     After  a  pause  Parthenia  rushes 

on  and  falls  on  the  bank. 
Par.  Saved !  saved  ! 

Enter  Ingomar,  hurriedly ',  l. 

Ing.   {Going  up  to  Parthenia,  and  taking  her  hand.) 
It  is  I — I — how  white  thou  art ! 
Thou  tremblest :   art  thou  hurt  ?     Parthenia. 
It  is  my  arm  supports  thee.     Did  they  dare 
With  their  rough  hands  to  seize  my  lovely  flower? 
Why  dost  thou  tremble  ?     Oh  !  they  shall  repent  it : 
They  shall,  like  worms,  crawl  in  the  dust  before  thee. 

Par.   Hark,  steps — they  come. 

Ing.  Fear  not,  for  i  am  witn  ^hee. 
No  power  on  earth  shall  harm  thee. 

Par.  Look — they  come. 

Ing.  Let  them  !  like  the  eagle  when  its  nest  is  seized, 
With  god-like  strength  I  feel  my  arm  is  braced ; 
And  if  Heaven's  lightning  strike  me  not,  I  bid 
Defiance  to  all  power  man  can  bring. 

Enter  the  Alemanni,  Alastor,  Novio,  and  Samo,  l.  u.  e. 
armed  ivith  spears,  swords,  and  clubs. 

Ing.  Stand  off,  and  speak  !     What  brings  you  1 

Alas.  Thou  hast  wounded  Ambivar  to  the  death. 

Ing.     That  did  I  when  he  dared  to  seize  upon 
This  maid,  my  property. 

Alas.  She  is  not  thine. 

Samo.  Give  up  the  woman. 

Ing.  Sooner  my  life. 

Nov.  Seize  her. 

Ing.  Come  on. 

Par.  (  Throwing lierself  into  his  arms.) 
They  are  too  many — they  will  kill  thee  ! 

Ing.  Away,  woman  !  come  on. 

Alas.  [Interposing  between  Ingomar  and  the  Alemanni. 
Hold — hear  me.  friends  ;  and  hear  me,  Ingomar. 
We  chose  thee  for  our  leader,  and  we  promised  thee 


38 


INGOMAIl. 


The  fifth  part  of  the  booty.     But  thou  givest 
Thyself  to  indolent  rest,  and  proudly  dost 
Appropriate  this  slave.     Thus  thou  hast  broken 
The  law  of  right  and  peace. 

Ing.  I  broke  them  not.     'Twas  he,  that  other,  did. 
Who.  seizing  her,  robbed  you,  as  well  as  me, 
And  well-deserved  his  fate.     But  I  am  weary 
Of  holding  your  proud  race  in  check.     Then  go  : 
Choose  your  own  path.     I  separate  myself 
From  you.     But  she  is  mine.     The  fifth  part  of  the  spoil, 
My  share  by  right,  I  give  you  as  her  ransom. 
Is  it  agreed  'I     If  not,  then  let  the  sword 

Trin.  The  fifth  of  the  spoil !  said  he  so,  indeed  ! 

Samo.  Shall  we  agree  ? 

Alas*  The  fifth  part  of  the  booty,  didst  thou  say? 

Ing.  I  did. 

Alas.  Then  be  it  so.     The  slave  is  thine. 
But  still,  if  thou  wilt  lead  our  steps  towards  home, 
We  will  obey  thee  as  truly  as  before. 

Ing.  No.  I  am  weary — I  will  seek  new  lands. 
New  customs      Go  you  hence — I  will  remain. 

Alas.  Consider  the  inroad  on  the  Allobrogi. 

Ing.  I  have  considered  all  enough.     Farewell. 

Exeunt  Allemantii,  l. 
They  are  gone.     And  now,  Parthenia,  thou  art  safe — 
Thou  art  free.     How  pale  thou  art,  and  trembling  still. 
Here,  sit  thee  down  and  rest. 

Par.   Oh,  Ingomar, 
Be  thanked,  be  blessed  ! 

Ing.  Thanked— and  for  what ? 

Par    I  know 
Thou  only  didst  that  which  thy  generous  heart 
Compelled  thee  to  ;  and  yet  have  I,  deserted 
By  my  own  people,  in  the  desert  found 
From  thee  protection. 

[She  kisses  his  hand  and  bursts  into  tears. 
And  now — now farewell ! 

Ing.  Farewell  ?  what  sayest  thou  ? 
Wilt  thou  not  go  with  me  ? 

Par.   Thou  hast  restored  my  freedom  :   I  would  seek 
My  home. 

Ing.  1  give  thee  freedom  7     I  ?  thou  dreamest. 


INGOMAR.  39 

Par.  What  ?  wilt  thou  break  thy  word  1 

Ing.  My  word  !  did  I  give  my  word  1 

Par.  Thou  didst. 
.  Ing.  Go,  go,  then — go. 

Par.   {Going.)  Bless  thee  ? 

Ing.  Stay,  stay,  Parthenia.     Oh  !  it  seems 
That  day  shall  shine  no  more  upon  the  earth, 
The  sun's  bright  beams  be  quenched  in  endless  night. 
Parthenia,  wilt  thou  go  1     Oh,  wilt  thou  leave  me  % 

Par.  My  parents  wait  their  child. 

Ing.  They  do  ;  go,  go,  then  ! 
Yet  think  of  the  dark  wood,  the  dizzy  cliff, 
The  dreadful  chasms  and  the  roaring  floods, 
The  wolf  and  bear — and  thou  to  go  alone. 

Par.  I  came  alone,  and  can  return  so,  too. 

Ing.  Thou  wilt  be  lost.     Alastor,  Novio, 
They  shall  conduct  thee.     Ho,  there  ! 

Par.  They  !  oh,  no. 
Rather  the  wolves  and  bear  than  those  wild  ruffians. 

Ing    Ah,  true,  indeed.     That  were  to  trust  the  lamb 
To  the  wolf's  keeping.     I,  I  will  myself 
Conduct  thee. 

Par.  Thou? 

big.  Why  dost  thou  look  so  fearful  ? 
Thou  thiakest  me  no  safer  than  the  rest. 
But  now  I  am  not  what  I  was.     Till  now 
Never  did  I  know  fear,  scarce  tears — not  even  when 
A  child.     But  thou  hast  taught  me  both  to-day. 
Doubt  me  no  more — believe  me,  trust  me.  then  ; 
I  call  the  gods  to  witness 

Par.  Nay,  swear  not ; 
Thine  eyes  speak  truer,  holier,  than  oaths  : 
And  if  they  lie,  then  all  is  false  indeed  ; 
Conduct  me,  be  my  guide — I  trust  thee. 

Ing.  Ah ! 
Thou  dost  consent  ?     Oh  !  I  will  seek  thee  out 
The  forest's  coolest  shade,  the  softest  turf, 
Guard  thee  from  every  stone,  from  every  brier  ; 
My  arm  shall  thus  support — no,  not  support — 
But  carry  thee. 

Par.  Dost  think  I  am  a  child, 
That  thou  wouldst  carry  me  ?     I  do  not  want 


40  INGOMAR. 

Even  thine  arm — I  care  not  for  fatigue — 
Thou  shalt  not  carry  me  :  but 

Ing.  What? 

Par.  The  basket. 

Ing.  The  basket? 

Par.  Yes,  the  basket  vrith  the  berries. 
Wilt  thou  not  do  it  ? 

[Taking  up  the  basket  from  the  ground,  and  handing 
it  to  him 

Ing.  Yes,  I  will — I  will. 

Par.  And  I  will  take  thy  spear,  thy  shield,  and  sword. 
[Taking  them  from  the  tree  against  which  Ingomar 
had  placed  them. 

Ing.  No,  no,  that  cannot  be. 

Par.  It  shall  be  so, — 
It  is  my  humor.     From  my  childhood  up, 
You  know,  I  have  been  accustomed  to  bright  arms  ; 
I  seem  to  inherit  it  in  my  blood, 
From  my  dear  father.     And  now,  why  delay  we  ? 
Thou  hast  the  basket,  I  the  arms — we'll  go. 
Dost  hear?     Why  standest  thou  silent — motionless  ? 

Ing.  All  seems  a  dream  to  me.     Come,  then,  this  way — 
Down  by  the  rock. 

Par.  Forward  !  the  guide  before. 
1  will  close  follow  thee — my  friend,  protector  : 
On,  on.  [Exeunt,  l. 

END   OF    AOT    III. 


ACT    IV. 

SCENE  I. — In  t)ie  background  appears  Massiluz  and  a 
view  of  tlie  sea.  In  the  front,  to  tlie  left,  a  rocky  eminence 
overgrown  with  bushes,  from  which  a  narrow  path  leads 
down  to  tlie  stage 

Enter  Myron.  Adrastus,  and  Elphenor,  l. 

Myr.  Shame,  I  say,  shame  !  The  wolf  will  help  the  wolf, 
yet  yonder  town,  that  boasts  its  civilization,  justice,  and  law, 
sees,  without  stirring   a  hand,  her  citizens  become  a  prey  to 


INGOMAR.  41 

slavery,  and  is  deaf  to  her  children's  cry  for  help.  Shame,  I 
say — shame  ! 

Adr.  Full  well  thou  knowest  'tis  an  old  law,  first  made 
when  the  infant  colony  struggled  for  existence  with  the  wild 
natives  of  the  land,  that  no  further  than  the  shadow  of  her 
walls  reached,  would  the  state  protect  her  citizens  ;  and  tbee 
they  seized  in  the  mountains. 

Myr.  Oh,  wise  decree  !  Oh,  father-like  protection  !  First 
they  refuse  a  child  her  parent's  ransom ;  and  when  she,  fol- 
lowing her  heart's  prous  bent,  submits  her  own  head  to  the 
yoke  for  mine,  then  they  deny  me  aid,  in  men  or  money,  to 
rescue  my  poor  child  from  worse  than  death. — Again  I  cry 
shame — shame  ! 

Elp.  We  are  not  strangers  to  your  grief,  but  suffer  with 
you  ;  and  when  thy  child  asked  us  for  help,  wo  paused,  only 
to  find  a  path  of  deliverance,  while  she 

Myr.  Ah,  she  !  a  woman  in  heart,  a  man  in  courage  !  Oh, 
my  poor  child — my  child  ! 

Adr.  Thou  knowest  Lykon,  the  fisherman,  who  brought  the 
news  of  thy  capture,  has  summoned  us  for  counsel,  help,  and 
hope  ;  and  if  the  men  of  the  coast  join  with  our  friends  within 
Massilia,  thy  child  may  yet  be  rescued.  See,  here  comes 
Lykon  ;  and  with  him  those  who  look  like  friends. 

Enter  Lykon,  surrounded  and  followed  by  Women  and 
Fislvermen. 

Lylc.  Where  is  Myron  ?  which  is  he  1  which  is  the  brave 
girl's  father  ? 

Myr.  Here,  here.  And  will  you  help  us  ?  will  you  save 
my  child? 

Fish.  Ay,  ay,  we'll  do  our  best. 

Lylc.  Though  ourselves  natives  of  the  soil,  we  hate  the 
Alemanni,  and  respect  the  Greeks.  Besides,  it  would  disgrace 
Massilia,  and  Greece  itself,  should  such  a  pious  daughter  and 
brave  maid  be  lost.     All  that  we  can  we'll  give. 

Women.  Yes,  yes — our  ornaments,  our  prayers 

Myr.  Bless  you  !  the  gods  repay  you  !  But  we  must  not 
lose  a  day.  as  the  wild  people  will  soon  return  further  into 
the  mountains,  and  my  child  will  be  dragged  to  slavery  or 
death. 

Lylc.  We  will  disperse  through  the  villages,  and  rouse  the 
young — ay.  and  the  old — to  the  rescue.     You,  Adrastus,  to 


42 


INGOMAR. 


the  right — I  to  the  left.  Meanwhile  you,  Myron,  and  Elphe- 
nor,  seek  the  house  of  the  old  Rhesus  ;  he  is  rich,  and  has 
promised  aid.  Await  my  coming  there.  And  now,  my 
friends,  away,  away.  [Exeunt fishermen,  women,  &-c. 

Myr.  My  child,  my  child  !  shall  I  again  behold  thee  ?  did 
not  age  stiffen  my  limbs,  I  would  myself 

Elp.  Come,  come,  let  us  to  the  house  of  the  wealthy  Rhesus. 

]  Exeunt.  \,. 

Parthtjnia  and  Ikgo.ua  r  appear  on  the  cliff,  l. 

Ing.  Here.  here.  Parthenia,  this  way — by  this  path. 

Par.   No.  yonder  is  the  way — down  there. 

Ing.  Hold,  hold  !  that  is  to  danger — see  you  not  1 
This  way — give  me  thy  hand. 

[  They  descend  the  path  on  to  the  stage 
'When  wilt  thou  trust  me  ? 
Hast  thou  forgotten  yesterday,  the  moor 
Where,  following  thine  own  will,  the  ground  gave  way 
Beneath  thy  feet,  and  if  I  had  not  then 
From  off  my  arm  thrown  my  broad  shield,  whose  face 
Upheld  thy  failing  steps — 

Par.   I  should  have  sunk  ! 

Ing.  And  I  with  thee. 

Par.   I  think  thou  wouldst !     Yes.  yes, 
I  was  preserved  from  death,  and  by  thine  arm?  ; 
Thy  shield  lies  in  the  morass — and  last  night,  too, 
Under  the  bank,  whose  turf  and  moss  afforded 
But  scanty  firing,  thou  didst  break  thy  spear, 
And  with  its  fragments  make  a  cheerful  blaze, 
To  warm  and  comfort  mc.     Oh.  thou  true  guide  ! 

Ing.  Then  come — this  way. 

Par.  It  seems  as  if  that  path 

Ing.  Again  !  Why,  look,  the  wood  is  ended  hero. 
And  the  mountain  grows  more  level. 

Par.  Ah  !  thou  art  right — the  forest  spreads  behind  lis  : 
It  seems  to  me  I  ought  to  know  this  place. 
Was  it  not  here  that,  when  I  left  my  home 
To  seek  my  father,  on  my  knees  I  prayed 
The  gods  for  courage,  strength,  and  victory  ? 

Ing.  Ah  !  say  not  so.     Far.  far  from  here,  I'd  have 
Thy  home. 


1NG0MAR.  43 

Par.  Yes.  here  it  was. 
[She  turns  to  the  background  and  recognizes  Massilia. 
Ah  !  and  behold,  there  rolls  the  sea  ; 
And  yonder,  shining  in  the  purple  light, 
Appears  Artemis'  temple.     Oh.  Massilia  ! 
My  home,  my  horns  !  again  I  throw  myself         [Kneeling. 
Upon  the  earth,  with  thanks,  with  gratitude. 
Immortal  gods,  who  have  watched  my  lonely  path, 
The  work  of  love  is  done,  and  safely  back 
You  bring  me  home  again.      Oh,  thanks  and  praise  ! 

Ing.  (Aside.)  "Would  that  I  lay  beside  my  shield  in  the 
morass. 

Par.  [Rising  and  coming  forward,  accompanied  by  In- 
gomar. 
My  father,  mother,  I  shall  see  them  again  ; 
Weeping  with  joy  shall  sink  into  their  arms, 
And  kiss  the  falling  tears  from  their  pale  cheeks. 
Oh  !  be  saluted  by  me.  my  native  city  ! 
See  how  the  evening  light  plays  on  each  column. 
Each  wall,  and  tower,  like  the  smile  of  a  god. 
Look,  Ingomar,  is  it  not  glorious  ? 
What  aiis  thee  ?  why  art  thou  now  grown  sulky 
Like  a  vexed  child,  when  joy  lends  my  soul  wings  ! 
Didst  thou  endure  with  me  the  burning  sun, 
The  frost  of  night,  and  the  rough  path,  and  now 
Wilt  not  rejoice — now  that  our  toil  is  over  ? 

Ing    I — I  rejoice  1 
In  the  dark  forest,  the  bleak  wilderness, 
Alone  with  thee,  the  heavens  above,  around  us 
Loneliness  and  deep  silence,  there — yes,  there 
Where  fear  and  clanger  pressed  thee  to  my  aid 
Did  I  rejoice  ;   I  was  tby  world.     But  here. 
Where  these  accursed  walls  cast  their  cold  shades, 
To  tear  our  souls  asunder — here 

Par.     Ah  me  ! 
Yes,  I  remember — here  we  part.     And  yet 
Not  here— come  with  me  to  the  city. 

Ing.   I? 
Yonder,  with  polished  Greeks,  caged  in  dark  walls  1 
I,  the  barbarian,  the  free  man  ?     No,  yonder 
Thy  pathway  lies — this  to  my  mountain  home. 
Oh  !  would  that  I  had  never  seen  thee,  girl ! 


44  INGOMAR. 

Enough---farewell !  [Going. 

Par.  No,  stay  ;  thou  shalt  not  go 
Without  one  gift,  that  in  some  distant  time 
May  call  again  my  image  to  thy  memory. 
Take  this.  I  Offers  him  a  dagger. 

Tag.  Thy  dagger !  is  it  to  remind  me 
How  once  my  violence  armed  thine  own  hand  with  it 
Against  thyself? 

Par.  No:  to  remind  thee  how 
Two  days  and  nights,  alone,  through  moor,  and  wood. 
And  briery  thicket,  thou  didst  still  protect  me, 
Guard  me,  and  guide  without  my  needing  once 
To  touch  its  hilt.     Of  this  let  it  remind  thee. 
And  so,  (hesitating.)  farewell ! 

Ing.  No,  no !  I  cannot,  will  not — 
Oh,  do  not  leave  me  ;  be  my  own,  Parthenia ; 
Oh,  be  my  wife  !  I  am  chief  among  my  people  ; 
Plenty  dwells  in  my  tent  at  home  ;  fear  not 
That  aught  of  our  rough  manners  shall  offend  thee ; 
Follow  thy  native  customs  there  as  freely 
As  I.     Thou  shalt  be  mistress  of  thyself, 
Of  all,  our  queen  !     Oh,  come  then — I  will  build 
A  home  for  thee  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees. 
Before  us,  a  rich  meadow  with  its  herds, 
Beside,  a  stream,  around  all  green  and  still. 
While  the  soft  evening  air  breathes  through  the  open  door, 
And  melts  our  hearts  to  love  and  happiness  : 
Say  yes — say  yes — and  come  where  joy  and  bliss 
Shall  ever  reign 

Par.  Ah  me ! 

Ing.  Why  dost  thou  droop  thine  eyes  ?  why  art  thou 
silent  ? 
Thou  canst  not  doubt  me — thou  thyself  didst  tell  me, 
True  love  was  gentle,  meek,  unselfish,  tender. 
By  yonder  heaven,  such  will  I  be  to  thee. 
Oh,  I  will  hold  thee  with  as  tender  bonds 
As  thine  own  hands  the  wreath  thou  weavest ;  will  see 
Fach  wish  told  in  thine  eyes,  ere  thou  hast  thought  it ; 
Whatever  lives  in  earth,  in  sea,  in  air, 
Shall  minister  to  thy  desires.     Rich  shalt  thou  be, 
Honored,  and  happ}'.     Oh,  then,  doubt  no  more ! 
Be  mine — be  mine,  and  speak  no  more  of  parting; 


INGOMAR.  45 

Par.  Hush — hush  this  syren  song  ! 

Ing.  Thou  wilt  not  ? 

Par.  Listen. 

Ing.  Oh;  thou  believest  me  not — .hou  hatest  me  ! 

Par.  No — I  respect — honor — 

Ing.  {Gloomily!)     But  canst  not  love. 

Par.   My  parents — Think,  can  I  desert  their  age? 
Forget  long  years  of  love  and  care — resign 
The  worship  of  the  gods— the  quiet  customs 
Of  my  own  home,  to  follow,  among  strangers, 
My  country's  foe  ? 

Ing.  I  know  it— thou  despisest  me. 

Par.  No,  by  my  life  !  I  hold  thee  for  most  noble, 
Most  good !  a  bright  and  glorious  star,  but  shadowed 
By  a  light  cloud— a  cup  of  ruby  wine, 
With  the  wreath  only  wanting.     Wert  thou  a  Greek; 
"Were  right,  law,  order,  not  unknown  to  thee  ; 
Were  violence  not  thy  god.  the  sword  thy  judge  ; 
Wert  thou  not  a 

Ing.  Wby  pause  ?  Yes,  speak  it . 
Barbarian  !  that  am  I  called— a  cattle-stealer— 
Yes,  I  remember  well !  'twas  thine  own  word  ; 
A  desolator— an  assassin  ! 

Par.   Ingomar  ! 

Ing.  I  seo  it  all.     There  is  a  gulf  indeed 
Between  us.  and  thou  art  ashamed  of  me. 
Thou  fearest  the  jeer  of  thy  refined  companions  : 
The  polished  Greeks  would  mock  at  the  rough  savage. 
Thou  art  right :  I  should  but  shame— disgrace  thee. 
Yes,  thou  art  right  ;  farewell. 

Par.  Oh,  leave  me  not  in  anger. 

Ing.   In  anger  !  Oh,  Partheniu,  couldst  thou 

But  see  this  heart !   I — I No  more — farewell  ' 

[Rushes  out. 

Par.  Ingomar  !  stay,  bear  me  !     He  heeds  me  not ; 
He  flies  up  the  steep  cliff ;  he  is  gone,  and  I 
Shall  never  see  him  more  !     Why,  how  is  this  ? 
What  sudden  change  has  come  upon  the  world  1 
How  green,  how  bright,  was  all  before  1  and  now 
How  dim  and  dark  the  twilight  grows  !     How  faded 
The  grass,  how  dry  the  leaves  !     It  seems  to  me 
As  if  the  young  spring  were  about  to  die.  [Weeps. 


46  INGOMAR. 

What !  tears  ?     I  must  not  weep  ;  no,  no,  I  must  not. 
Rouse  thee,  Parthenia,  thou  hast  duties.     Think, 
Thy  home  awaits  thee — parents,  friends,  companions. 
Ob,  Ingomar  !  whom  shall  I  find  there  like  to  thee  1 
Thou  good,  thou  generous  one  !     Lost — lost !         [  Weeps. 

Ingomar.  reenters,  and  slowly  approacltc:. 

Lig.  Parthenia ! 

Par.  Ah  !  come  back  again  ! 

Ing.  I  am  :  I  cannot,  will  not  leave  thee. 
I  will  go  with  thee  to  the  city  ;  I — 
I  will  become  a  Greek  ! 

Par.  How  sayest  thou  ? 

Ing.  Thou  dost  not  despise  me,  Parthenia — no, 
Thou  art  not  ashamed  of  me,  but  only  of 
My  nation,  my  rough  ways  ;  there's  remedy 
For  that — It  can  be  mended.     Though  [  am 
No  Greek,  yet  I  am  a  man,  for  'tis  the  soul 
That  makes  the  man  and  not  his  outward  seeming  ; 
My  shield  and  spear  are  left  in  the  morass. 
So  will  I  leave  my  nation,  manners,  all, 
To  follow  thee.     In  yonder  town,  for  thee 
I  will  become  a  Greek.     And  now  I've  said  it, 
I  am  strong  and  well  again. 

Par.  Thoul't  follow  me  ? 

Ing.  I  know  I've  much  to  learn,  but  thou  wilt  teach  me ; 
And  that  will  make  all  easy.     When  'tis  done, 
Thoul't  love  me  then  !   thou  wilt — I  feel  it  here — 
Ay,  like  a  sunbeam  in  my  heart  it  glows  ; 
It  shouts  like  the  loud  triumph  of  a  conqueror  ; 
.Like  the  voice  of  the  high  gods,  it  penetrates 
My  soul  :   thoul't  love  me  then  !   thoul't  love  me  then  ! 

Par.   (Aside.)     If  not,  oh  heaven  !  whom  can  I  ever  love  ? 
Thoul't  follow  me  to  Massilia.      But,  unknown. 
Where  wilt  thou  find  a  host  to  give  thee  shelter? 

Ing.   A  host?     The  first  that  comes  across  my  path 
I'll  ask  for  salt  and  fire.      What  needs  there  more  ? 
And  see,  already  two  approach,  who  look     [Loo/.jng  ojf,  c 
Like  Greeks.     Them  will  I 

Par.   Ah  !  'tis  he — 'tis  he — my  father  I         [Rus/ies  out. 


INGOMAR.  47 

Ing.  Her  father  !  the  gods  smile  upon  me,  then, 
And  lead  him  here  as  my  appointed  friend. 

Re-enter  Parthenia,  with  Myron  and  Elphenor. 

Myr.  My  darling  child  restored  to  me  !     Oh,  let  me 

Bless  the  brave  man  who [Ingomar  turns. 

Ah  !  what  do  I  see  1 

Elphenor — help  !     The  Alemanni — fly  ! 

Par.  Fear  not ;  'twas  he  himself,  'twas  Ingomar, 
Who  gave  thy  child  her  freedom,  and  who  now 
Brings  her  in  safety  to  thine  arms  again. 

Myr.  What  sayest  thou  1 — he  ?  and  he  came  alone  1 

Par.  He  comes  a  friend,  a  suppliant  to  thee ; 
And  oh  !  be  kind  to  him,  as  he  has  been 
To  me.     Hear  him,  my  father  ;      [Leads  Ingomar  to  him. 
And  now,  Elphenor, 
My  mother — tell  me  of  her. 

Myr.   {Aside  )    He  is  really  come  alone  !  Then  I  suppose 
All's  safe.     {Hesitatingly  to  Ingomar.)     I  thank  thee — thou 

art  welcome — very  ! 
I  did  not  think  to  see  you  again  so  soon — 
You  are  come  about  the  ransom, 

lng.  Bah! 

Myr.  Do  not  be  angry  ;  I  have  not  got  it  yet ; 
But  a  few  drachmas,  but  I'll  give  you  those. 

Ing.  Old  man,  your  ransom's  paid :   I  bought  it.  with 
Your  child's  release,  at  the  cost  of  ail  I  owned  ; 
I  give  you  both. 

Myr.  {Astonished  )     You  ! 

Ing.  Now  I  ask  your  friendship,  and  come  to  live  with  you. 

Myr.   {Staggering  )     To  live  with  me  !     You  !  one  of  the 
Alemanni. 

Ing.  Well,  I  have  been 
Your  enemy,  I  own  it ! — made  you  my  prisoner, 
True  ! — treated  you  as  my  slave,  agreed  ! — but  yet 
I  have  done  you  service,  too,  and  come  in  peace. 
Let  all  be  blotted  out ! — There  is  my  hand — 
Accept  it,  and  you'll  find  me,  perhaps,  more  true 
As  friend,  than  enemy.      Bo  you  fear  to  take  it  1 

Myr.  Fear  ?  n-n-no.     Greeks  never  fear  ; — 
'  But  you  are  quite  sure  you  have  come  alone  1 
No :  I  don't  fear  you,  but  the  citizens — 


1/  j  . 


48  INGOMAR. 

Ifthey- 


Ing.  Tell  them  that  Ingomar  comes  single 
Into  the  midst  of  them,  to  ask  a  home. 
If  any  bear  him  malice  for  past  wrongs, 
Let  them  stand  forth.     Say  Ingomar  is  here, 
To  answer  one  and  all. 

Myr.  Merciful  powers,  he'd  challenge  the  whole  city  ! 

Ing.  I  have  little  thought  for  them.     But  thou,  old  man, 
I'd  have  thee  be  my  friend — ay,  more — my  father. 
Give  me  thy  hand  as  to  thy  son. 

[Myron  reluctantly  does  so. 
That's  well. 

Now  take  me  to  thy  roof,  and  teach  me  thy  customs  ; 
Teach  me  among  the  Greeks  a  Greek  to  be. 

Myr.   (Alarmedly .)     I  take  thee  to  my  home  ! 

Ing.  It  shall  be  sacred 
As  the  temple  of  a  god. 

Myr.  Thou  learn  to  be  a  Greek !  and  learn  from  me,  too  ! 
I — I — I  know  I'm  bound  to  you  for  much, 
For  many  thanks  :  but  a  poor  man  am  I ; 
And  shouldst  thou  be  my  guest,  thou  needs  must  share 
Poverty  with  us,  weariness  and  care, 
Complying  with  our  household  customs. 

Ing.  Poverty ! 
I  have  given  up  my  race  and  home.     Then  tell  me, 
Can  I  be  poorer  ?     Weariness  and  care  ! 
Can  these  be  where  Parthenia  dwells  ?     Out.  out, 
Old  man  !  you  do  but  mock  me  :   tell  me,  rather. 
What  must  I  do  ? 

Myr.  {Laughing.)     Why.  first  strip  oft"  thy  skin. 

Ing.  My  skin  !   Oh.  this  1     (Looking  at  the  skin  thrown 
over  his  shoulder.)     Ha  !  ha  !     Well,  be  it  so. 

Myr.  And  then  thou  must  cut  short  thy  hair  and  beard, 

Ing.  My  hair  and  beard  !   That  will  I  never!  they 
Are  my  proud  race's  mark  of  free  descent, 
Growing  freely  with  the  free. 

[Turning,  and  his  eyes  meeting  tlwse  of  Parthenia. 
And  yet — well,  well, 
I  will  cut  them  off. 

Myr.   (Aside.)  How  wondrous  tame  he  grows  ! 
He  that  was  wild  as  an  unbroken  horse. 
Then  I  have  fields  up  yonder,  on  the  hills  ; 


1NG0MAR.  4« 

A  vineyard  also  ;  work  must  there  be  done,  too, 
With  plough  and  harrow  ;  and  thou 

Tag.  What !  guide  the  plough  and  harrow  ! 
Root  up  the  earth  like  ants  and  moles  !     Slaves  only 
Guide  ploughs  ;  and  wilt  thou  make  of  me  a  slave? 
By  the  loud  thunder 

Myr.  Be  calm.  calm.     Remember,  'twas  thyself 
Did  wish  to  be  a  Greek,  and  we  are  poor. 
We  all  must  work  —not  I  alone  :  my  wife  j 
Parthenia,  too — 

Ins.     Parthenia,  didst  thou  say  ? 
Parthenia  labor? 

Myr.  Ay.  why  not  ?     She,  too,  must 

Ing.  She  1  Parthenia  1     No,  that  shall  she  never  ! 
I'll  work  for  her  at  any  toil  you  will ; 
The  plough,  the  harrow,  anything.     What  more  ? 

Myr.  And  then,  too,  thou  must  help  me  at  my  forge, 
And  learn  how  to  make  arms. 

Ing.  Ay,  by  my  life, 
That  will  I  joyfully  !  that  must  be  glorious* 
That's  spending  strength  on  strength;  the  hammer  thrashing 
The  shrieking  steel,  that  writhes  to  every  blow  ! 
Ay,  that  is  brave,  that's  noble  !     By  my  life, 
Making  good  swords  must  almost  be  as  pleasant 
As  wielding  them. 

Myr.  Stay — stay  !  thou  must  not  wield  them  : 
We  are  a  quiet  people,  and  love  peace 
And  therefore  thou  must  give  up  thy  sword. 

Ing.  My  sword ! 

Myr.  It  is  forbidden,  under  heavy  penalties, 
For  strangers  to  go  armed  into  Massilia. 
I  will  take  care  of  it  for  thee.     Give  it  to  me. 

Ing.  My  father's  sword  !  that  which  has  given  me 
Defense  and  victory  !     Give  me  up  my  sword  ! 
Thou  art  playing  with  my  softness,  to  insult  me. 

Myr.  {Timidly)     Parthenia. 

lag.  Give  thee  this  sword  ?  sooner  my  blood — my  life  ! 
My  sword's  myself — the  sword  and  man  are  one. 
Bid  any  come  and  take  it,  if  he  dare.  [Draioing  it. 

Par.   (ApproacJies,  smiling.)     Ingomar,  thou  wilt  give 
thy  sword  to  me. 
Dost  tbou  remember  how  I  carried  it 


50  INGOMAR. 

From  the  mountain  ?     You  will  trust  me  with  it  now. 

[He  lets  her  gently  disengage  it  from  his  hard. 
Father,  haste  on,  before.     I  long  to  embrace 
My  mother.     Go,  prepare  her — we  will  follow  thee. 

Myr.  Wonderful !     Elphenor,  go  thank  the  fishermen, 
And  tell  them  alL     Give  up  his  sword  !  oh,  marvel ! 

[Exit,  k. 
Par.  [Following  Myron,  but  turning  to  Ingomar. 
Why  dost  thou  linger,  Ingomar  ? 

Ing.  {Confused.)  Who's  he? 
Who  spoke  of  Ingomar  ?  dost  thou  mean  me  ? 
Am  I,  then,  Ingomar  ?     My  senses  whirl ; 
Beneath  my  feet  the  solid  earth  seems  falling, 
I  am  a  child — a  fool — I  will  not !     Stay  ! 
Give  me  ray  sword  again  ! 
Par.  {Smiling  and  beckoning.)     Come,  Ingomar! 

{Exit  r. 
Ing.  (After  a  struggle.)     Parthenia  !       [Rushes  out,  r. 

knh  OP  ACT  IV. 


ACT    V. 

Scene. — Same  as  in  Act  I. 
Enter  Elphenor,  from  Myrorts  housa,  l. 

Elp.  (Calling)  Come,  what  delays  thee,  Myron ?  the^ 
wait  for  thee. 

Myr.  (Appearing  on  the  steps  in  tile  act  of  arranging  his 
dress.)  I  will  be  ready  in  an  instant.  I  but  take  off  my 
sooty,  working  coat,  fit  to  appear  before  the  council.  Actca, 
quick — my  girdle,  and  my  cloak. 

Enter  Actea.  jollowed  by  Polydor,  l. 

Act.  (Coining  forward  with  Myroytfs  girdle  in  her  hand.) 
What  can  they  want  with  you  at  the  council? 

Pol.  (Aside,  remaining  in  background.)  Want  Myron  at 
the  council  !  I'll  stay  and  listen  ;  I  may  gain  some  profit 
out  of  it. 


INGOMAR.  51 

Myr.  What  do  they  want  me  for  ?  No  doubt,  an  order 
for  a  large  supply  of  arms.  They  find  that  none  can  make  so 
well  as  Myron,  especially  now  Ingomar  assists  me. 

Elp.  Quick — see,  another  messenger. 

Enter  Neocles,  l. 

Neo.  Myron,  the  Timarch  is  impatient ;  all  is  confusion  at 
the  counciL 

Myr.  Confusion  ?     What  is  it  then  1 

Neo.  The  gates  are  closed,  the.  guards  are  doubled 

Act    What  is  the  matter  1 

Neo.  How,  have  you  not  heard  ?  We  are  surrounded  by 
the  Alemanni ;  the  hills  about  the  city  swarm  with  them ; 
and  loudly  at  the  council  they  call  for  Myron. 

Act.  Ye  gods,  'tis  as  I  feared,  then  ;  I  said  he  was  a  spy, 
a  traitor. 

Pol.  {Chuckling.)  Aha  !  I  taught  her  that ! 

Myr.  A  traitor  saidst  thou,  who  1 

Act.  'Twas  not  for  nothing  that  the  flames  cackled  when  he 
entered  our  house,  and  that  the  raven  croaked ;  they  warned 
us,  yet  in  vain. 

Neo.  Whom  do  you  mean  ?     Who  is  a  spy,  a  traitor  1 

Enter  Parthenia,  from  hoicse. 

Act.  Who?  who  but  Ingomar  'I 

Par.  Who  dares  call  Ingomar  a  spy  ? 

Act.  I,  thy  mother. 

Myr.  Hold  your  tongue,  you  are  a  fool. 

Act.   Polydor  says  it,  too. 

Myr.  Polydor  is  another  fool,  then. 

Pol  {Behind.)  Is  he,  indeed?  I'll  make  you  treat  him, 
though,  with  more  respect  ere  long  ! 

Myr.  It  is  the  weak  alone  are  traitors,  and  Ingomar  is  a 
very  Hercules ;  any  one  who  saw  him  at  the  plough,  the 
anvil,  or  the  games,  would  need  no  more  to  swear  him  a  true 
man.  Why,  my  earnings  are  trebled  since  Ingomar  worked 
with  me.  (  Talcing  the  girdle  from  Actea,  and  completing  his 
toilet  by  putting  it  on.)  There — now  I  am  ready,  be  not 
alarmed.  No  doubt,  the  council  summon  me  for  my  opinion. 
I  know  the  Alemanni — I  have  been  among  them,  and  1  fear 
them  not — I've  proved  that.     Come,  come. 

[Exit,  followed  by  Neocles,  l. 


62  INGOMAR. 

Act.  The  foe  at  our  gates  !  he  summoned  to  the  council. 
If  they  should,  instead  of  asking  his  opinion,  bring  him  for 
his  folly  to  a  reckoning,  perhaps  to  punishment  ? 

Par.  Fear  not,  mother  :  the  fathers  knew  of  Ingomar  and 
gave  permission  to  receive  him. 

Act.  He  has  brought  mischief  on  our  house. 

Par.  Mother,  he  brought  thy  child  in  safety  back  there. 

Act.  Well,  well:  and  so  he  did.  But  Polydor  says 
truly 

Par.  Mother,  mother,  why  will  you  give  your  ear  to  that 
malicious  wretch  1 

Pol.  {Still behind.)  That's  me! 

Par.  Why  suffer  him  to  turn  your  heart  against  the 
noblest 

Act.  Bah  !  I  tell  you,  Polydor- 


Par.  i  will  not  hear  his  name  !  Why  will  he  still  pursue 
me  ?  why  you  still  urge  for  him  ?  I  tell  you,  mother,  were 
beggary  and  death  set  for  my  choice,  I  would  embrace  them 
sooner  than  that  detested  man  ! 

Pol.  {Still behind.)  You  would?  you  shall,  then!  I'll 
bring  down  that  proud  spirit,  though  it  should  cost  me  half 
my  means. 

Act.  But,  child,  he  threatens  us — 

Par.  He  threatens  !  the  cold  dastard — let  him  !  I  spurn 
his  threats  as  I  do  him. 

Pol.  I'll  hear  no  more :  I'll  go  at  once  and  do  it,  cost  me 
what  it  may  ! 

Par.  He  dares  to  threaten  ! 

Pol.  (SJ taking  his  fist.)  Tremble!  [Exit,  l. 

Act.  Hush  !  if  he  should  hear  you.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know 
why  you  hate  him  so.  At  least,  he  never  drew  his  sword  on 
you  as  Ingomar  once  did ;  he  never  took  your  father  for  a 

slave,  as  Ingomar O,  how  I  hated  him  as  soon  as  I  set  my 

eyes  upon  him.     His  very  look,  and  that  long  hair,  and  his 
rough  and  wiry  beard.     Ugh  !  he  made  my  heart  sick  ! 

Par.  Yet  he  now  wears  both  short,  and  like  a  Greek 

Act.  The  very  children  in  the  street  called  after  him — 
Faun  and  Satyr. 

Par.  But  thou  knowest  he  goes  now,  clad  like  others. 

Act.  Ay  !  Greek  may  be  his  coat  and  mantle  ;  but  his 
bearing,  walk,  and  voice — the  fixed  disdain  in  his  mien,  and 
look,  and  speech,  these  all  are  the  barbarian's  still,  and  will 
remain  so.     Even  his  forest  nature  clings  to  him. 


INGOMAR.  53 

Par.  Why  should  it  not,  when  freedom,  courage,  and 
strength,  like  his  own  forests,  animate  his  soul  ? 

Act.  The  rough  strength  of  a  hear  !  Did  not  he  yesterday 
at  the  games,  throw  his  adversary  right  out  of  the  circle  ;  did 
he  not  fling  the  quoit  so  far,  he  nearly  struck  the  Timarch. 

Par.  Did  he  not,  too,  destroy  the  wolf  that  had  so  long 
ravaged  our  fields  ?  and  in  the  harbor,  when  Lysippus'  boat 
struggled  with  the  storm,  who  sprang  into  the  boiling  waves 
and  dragged  him  safe  to  shore,  but  Ingomar  ?  and  who  but  he 
relieves  from  the  forge  and  the  plough  my  gray  haired  father  ? 

Act.  Well,  well,  perhaps  he  does.  He  may  have  some 
good  in  him  ;  but  he  pays  no  respect  to  me :  and  I  say  again 
he  is  a  spy,  a  traitor,  and  so  I'll  tell  him  to  his  face.  Where 
is  he?     (Calls.)     Ingomar! 

Par.  Stay,  mother,  stay  !  what  would  you  do?  Respect, 
at  least,  the  rights  of  a  guest. 

Act.  [Calling  again]  What,  Ingomar,  I  say  !  Yes,  thou 
shalt  see  how  he  will  shrink  and  tremble,  when  I  tell  him 
that  I  know  him, — Ingomar  ! 

Par.  Mother !  how  little  dost  thou  know  of  that  pure  soul, 
that  noble  heart. 

Enter  IngomaRj/totw.  back  of  stage,  dressed  in  the  costume  of 
a  Greek  peasant. 

Ing.  Who  called  me  ? 

Act.  So  thou  art  come  at  last.     Thrice  must  I  call  ? 

Ing.  I  was  preparing  for  the  evening  sports,  and  singing. 

Act.  Singing  !     Yes,  for  joy  to  meet  our  friends  again. 

Ing.  What  friends  ? 

Act.  Oh,  you  don't  know,  not  you,  that  the  Alemanni  sur- 
round the  city. 

Ing.  Indeed!  They  come  this  way,  then,  in  their  incursions 
on  the  Allobrogi  ? 

Act.  Tho  Allobrogi !  oh,  how  innocent !  But  be  their 
road,  sir,  where  it  may,  there  are  some  people  think,  hint- 
ay,  and  maintain,  their  way  and  yours  are  one. 

Ing.  Their  way  and  mine  ! 

Act.  Ay  ;  who  even  say  that  you  have  introduced  yourself 
here,  only  to  open  doors  and  gates  to  them. 

Ing.  [Excited.']  I — who  says  that? 

Act.  I  say  so,  to  thy  face — that  thou  art  a  spy,  a  traitor — 
that  thou  art — 


54 


INGOMAR. 


Ing.  [Rushes  up  to  her.]  Woman!  [Then  checks  himself ".] 
But  no,  no,  no,  thou  art  Parthenia's  mother — I  will  not 
answer  thee.  [Abruptly  walks  into  the  house. 

Act.  Look,  he  derides  my  anger.  He  does  not  think  it 
worth  his  trouble  to  justify  himself  to  me  !  he  dares 

Par.  [Goes  up  to  the  house  and  calls.]     Ingomar  ! 

Act.  Why  do  you  call  him  1     Shall  he  again  affront  me  1 

Par.  No.  he  shall  answer. 

Act.  I  will  have  no  answer — you'll  drive  me  mad,  among 
you!  There  is  thy  father — danger  perhaps  threatens  his 
very  life  ;  I'll  follow  him  to  the  council ;  thou  mayest  stay 
and  ask  for  answers  from  this  proud  barbarian,  and  thou 
mayst  trust  him,  too  ;  but,  for  me.  I  know  him !  and  me  he 
never  shall  deceive.  [Exit^  l. 

Par,  [  Walks  restlessly  up  and  down  ] 
She  is  wrong. 

Very  wrong,  and  he  bears  all  the  blame. 
Poor  Ingomar ! 

[  Turns  and  sees  Ingomar  slowly  descending  the  steps, 
— she  beckons  him. 
Come  here.     Dost  think 

Thou  hast  treated  with  respect  my  mother,  Myron's  wife, 
To  turn  thy  back  on  her,  and  walk  away 
Without  an  answer  ? 

Ing,  Didst  thou  not  bid  me,  when  thy  mother  might, 
As  age  will  do,  find  fault  without  a  cause, 
I  should  be  silent  then,  and  go  away  ? 
She  did  find  fault  with  me  without  a  cause, 
So  I  said  nothing,  and  I  went  away. 

Par.  But  couldst  thou  not  look  gentle  and  speak  thus — 
'  No,  thou  art  wrong, — I  am  no  spy,  no  traitor.' 
But  thou  instead,  must  fly  into  a  rage, 
And  leave  me  to  bear  all  the  pain. 

Ing.  I  am  sorry. 

Par.^  I  cannot  make  you  heed  my  words,  and  never 

Ing.  Not  heed  thy  words  !  I  think  of  nothing  else, 
Laboring  or  resting,  at  the  plough,  the  anvil, 
In  very  sleep,  still  I  repeat  your  lessons, 
But  all  in  vain  !     Oh,  I  shall  never  learn  ; 
And  thou  wilt  never  love  me  ! 

Par.  Nay,  thou  hast 
Learned  much  already,  and 


1NG0MAR.  55 

Ing.  Oh,  my  wild  woods, 
My  mountain  home  !     There  the  heart  speaks  its  will, 
And  the  free  act  is  open  as  the  thought. 
'Tis  thus  I  have  grown  up — I  cannot  change  it. 
What  moves  me, — love  or  hate,  pleasure  or  pain,— 
Breaks  from  my  lips,  shows  in  my  looks,  and  sparkles 
From  out  my  eyes ;  I  must  be  what  I  am,, 
I  can  be  nothing  else  ! 

Par.  Nor  shalt  thou  be  ! 
I  would  not  have  thee  other  than  thou  art — 
Honest,  and  pure,  and  true. 
Yet  even  the  candor  of  a  noble  soul 
Requires  restriction.     See,  thou  hast  learned  much ; 
Thou  honorest  law  and  order — thou  hast  left 
The  bloody  service  of  thy  mountain  gods, 
For  the  pure  worship  of  my  people.     See, 
Thou  art  a  Greek  already  in  thy  heart ; 

Yet  be  more  gentle,  more but  that  will  come. 

The  sculptor,  who,  from  out  of  the  rough  stone, 
Would  call  the  image  of  a  god  to  life, 
First  learns  to  smooth  the  coarse  unpolished  shell 
That  shrouds  it. 

Ing.  And  then,  after  I've  learned, 
When  I  am  more  what  thou  desirest,  Parthenia, 
Wilt  thou  then 

Par.  {Laughing.)     Stop,  thou  hast  not  learned  it  yet, 
And  wilt  not  soon. 

Ing.  Ah,  thus  it  ever  is  ! 
In  place  of  paying  the  poor  scholar's  zeal, 
Thou  dost  withdraw  the  goal  still  further  from  me. 
Thou  art  altered,  too — thou  once  didst  seek,  encourage  me, 
Didst  tell  me  tales  and  sing  me  songs  ;  but  now 
Thou  art  distant,  cold.     Well,  well,  I  will  not  weary  thee, 
Content  if  I  can  gaze  into  thine  eyes, 
And 

Myr.  (WitJwut.)  Parthenia — Parthenia! 

Par.  Hark  !  my  father. 

Enter  Myron,  l.,  followed  by  Actea. 

Myr.  Parthenia !  Ay — and  Ingomar,  where  is  he  1 

Ing.  Here. 

Act.  Now,  what  is  it  %     Will  you  never  tell  me  ? 


56  INOOMAR. 

Myr.  Stop — give  me  air,  let  me  breathe  first, — what  do 
you  think  % 
Know  !  they  are  coming,  they  will  be  here  directly. 

Act.  Who — the  enemy  1 

Myr.  His  grace  the  Timarch ! 

Act.  Ah  !  I  said  so — I  said 
That  Ingomar  would  bring  us  no  good  luck. 

Myr.  Then  you  talked -nonsense,  as  you  always  do. 
He  brings  us  glory,  consideration,  honor  ! 
But  here  they  aro.     Now,  Ingomar,  dear  friend, 
Be  ready — I  go  to  greet  him. 

Act.  Consideration  !  honor !  how  my  heart  beats  ! 
Like  a  forge  hammer. 

Enter  the  Timarch,  accompanied  by  attendants:    Myron  re- 
ceives  him  with  low  bows. 

Tim.  Enough,  enough — Myron,  where  is  thy  guest, 
Thy  pupil  ? 

Myr.  Here,  illustrious  sir — 
Will  you  step  into  the  house  ? 

Tim.  No,  call  him  hither. 

[Myron  beckons  Ingomar  forward,  and  he  advances 
toward  the  Timarch. 
So,  friend,  thy  name  is  Ingomar. 

Ing.  Ay — as  thou  sayest. 

Myr.  [Aside,  to  Ingomar.)     Say,  '  your  grace.'  Dost  thou 
understand — '  your  grace.' 

Tim.  I  hear  thou  wouldst  become  a  Greek, 
Be  naturalized — Massilia's  citizen. 

Ing.  Such  is  my  wish. 

Tim.  Massilia  grants  thy  wish — 
A  house  within  her  walls  shall  be  assigned  thee  ; 
Added  to  which,  three  hydes  of  land,  with  the  freedom 
And  the  full  privileges  of  a  citizen, 

Ing.  To  me — this,  this  to  me  ! 

Par.  Ye  gods  ! 

Myr.  Dost  hear,  wife  1 

Tim.  Nay,  more ; — thou  love&t  this  maid  :  thirty  ounces 
of  silver 
Shall  her  dower  be — she  shall  be  thine,  thy  wife. 

Ing.  Parthenia  ! 

Tim.  So  thou  prove  only  that  Massilia's  welfare 


INGOMAR.  57 

Lies  at  thy  heart,  all  these  shall  then  be  thine. 
Say,  in  return  what  wilt  thou  do  ? 

Ing.  What  do ! 
What  will  T  not  do  ?     I  will  lift  the  world 
From  off  its  solid  centre,  drink  the  ocean, 
Tear  down  the  stars  from  heaven  !     I  am  but  mad- 
Yet  all  that  is  possible — ay,  or  impossible. 
I'll  do  for  bliss  like  this. 

Tim.  Thou  hast  heard  the  Alemanni  now 
Surround  the  city — they  come  against  us  to 

Ing.  No,  no,  you  err.     Against  the  Allobrogi 
This  expedition  moves,  not  against  you — 
Not  you. 

Tim.  Be  as  it  may,  we  hold  them  dangerous — 
Massilia  would  extirpate  them. 

[Draws  Ingomar  a  little  aside. 
Thou  knowest  them  : 

Thou  shalt  go  to  their  camp,  as  though  thou  earnest 
To  seek  thy  friends  and  hear  the  news  of  home  ; 
So  shalt  thou  well  observe  their  mode  of  war, 
The  approaches  of  their  camp,  their  watchword,  and 
The  arrangement  of  their  guard.     Return  in  the  evening, 
And  then  by  night  conduct  Massilia's  soldiers, 
And  lead  them  on  to  conquest. 

Ing.   (Furiously.)  Ah  !  [Parthenia  checks  him. 

Tim.  What  sayest  thou  ? 

Ing    Ensnare, 
Betray  my  countrymen  ! — deceive  the  men 
Who  trust  me — murder  them  in  their  sleep — 
The  men  who  speak  my  tongue,  who  were  my  brothers? 

Tim.  Think  of  the  reward — Parthenia,  honor,  riches. 

Ing.  Take  all  thy  offers  back  !  take  even  her, 
For  she  is  all  to  nte !  my  heart,  my  soul, 
My  life  !     Yet  take  her,  too :  for.  had  I  her, 
And  all  the  happiness  the  earth  could  give, 
It  were  despair,  shame,  misery,  and  death, 
To  purchase  her  by  baseness  such  as  this. 

Tim.  Dost  thou  not  wish  to  be  a  Greek  ? 

Ing.  I  did, 
For  then  I  did  not  know  that  Greeks  were  traitors. 
1  said  farewell  to  mine  own  kin  and  nation — 
I  gave  up  all  to  make  my  home  with  you, — 


58  INGOMAK. 

And  had  you  called  on  me  to  Gght  for  you 

On  the  open  field  of  war,  I  would  have  stood 

faithfully  by  you  to  the  death  ;  but  {with  contempt.)  Grecian 

Weapons  are  treachery,  cunning,  cowardice, — 

In  these  I  am  unpractised.     Go,  go,  go  ! 

We  do  not  understand  each  other — you  are  civilized, 

Refined,  and  I  but  a  barbarian  !     Go ! 

Tim.  Restrain  thy  bold  tongue — one  hour  for  decision 
We  give  thee  yet.     Refuse,  and  thy  false  breath, 
No  longer  shall  contaminate  our  city. 
Choose,  then!     And  thou,  Myron,  if  afterward 
Thou  dost  befriend  or  shelter  him.  thy  life 
Shall  answer  for  it !     Back  to  the  council. 

[Exeunt  Timarch  ivith  suite. 

Act.  Now,  who  was  right?   Where  is  the  honor, 
The  consideration,  that  this  Ingomar 
Was  to  have  brought  ?     He  brings  thy  head  in  danger. 

Myr.  No,  not,  not  my  head  ; 
I  will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  bim. 
Away,  depart, — I  shut  my  door  against  thee  ; 
I  am  Massilia's  true  citizen. 
Go  into  the  house,  Parthenia. 

Ing.  Myron. 

Myr.  Go,  go  in,  wife — in,  girl. 

\Actca  and  Partlienia  go  into  the  house. 

Ing,  One  word. 

Myr.  Not  one  !  You  see  the  danger  you  have  brought  me. 
I  owe  thee  thanks ;  and,  had  I  two  heads,  willingly 
Would  I  loose  one  for  thee.     But  I  have  but  one  ; 
And  therefore,  go,  go,  go.      [In  a  loud  voice.')     I   am  a  true 

man, 
And  a  good  citizen — and  so,  farewell  ! 

[Exit  into  house,  shutting  tlic  clow. 

Ing.  'Tis  past,  then  !    All  is  over,  all  is  lost. 
Never  will  she  be  mine      Never  again 
Shall  I  behold  her  face,  or  hear  her  voice. 
She  is  lost !  Why,  then,  delay?     Away,  away  : 
And  let  them  close  their  coward  gates  upon  me. 
I'll  die,  or  break  a  passage  through  their  spears.     [Going. 

Enter  Parthenia,  who,  during  his  last  ivords  comes  out  of  the 
house,  and  approacltes  unperceived. 


INGOMAR.  -  59 

Par.  Ingomar  !  wilt  thou  go  ? 

Ing.  Dost  doubt  it  ? 

Par.  Whither? 

Ing.  Ask  me  not  whither ; 
There  are  on  earth  only  two  paths  for  me, 
One  to  heaven,  where  thou  art — and  where 
Thou  art  not,  all  is  there  a  barren  desert — 
That  path  is  mine.     Son  of  the  wilderness, 
I  bend  my  steps  again  towards  my  mother  ; 
She  gave  me  truth  for  my  inheritance, 
And  I  will  keep  it,  though  my  heart  should  burst. 

Par.  And  thou  wilt  go  ? 

Ing.   Wouldst  thou  desire  my  stay, 
To  be  dishonored  1     Yet  thine  image  still 
Shall  never  leave  me — thou,  Parthenia — 
Farewell. 

Par.  Not  yet — not  yet. 

Ing.  Quick  death  is  easy, — 
He  who  dies  slowly  dies  a  thousand  times. 
(  Then  abruptly. )  Farewell. 

Par.  Thy  sword — thou  hast  forgot  thy  sword  ; 
On  entering  here  thou  gavest  it  to  my  father. 

Ing.  I  want  it  not.     Hope  took  it  from  my  hand  ; 
And  now — now 

Par.  Yet  'tis  here.     Look,  I  return  it, 
Bright  as  when  first  thou  gavest  it  up.     [He goes  to  take  it. 

Not  so : 
But  I  will  bear  it  for  thee. 

Ing.  Thou,  Parthenia ! 

Par.  I  carried  with  it  once  thy  spear  and  shield  , 
Then  why  not  thy  sword  ? 

Ing.  Oh,  then But  let  that  pass — let  us  part  here. 

Par.  No,  Ingomar ;  I  will  bear  thy  sword  for  thee. 

Ing.  Where  1  to  the  market  1 

Par.  No,  further — to  the  gate  : 
Still  further — to  the  sea — beyond  the  sea — 
Over  the  mountains — over  valleys,  floods — 
To  east  and  west.     Wherever  thy  path  leads, 
Wherever  thou  dost  bend  thy  wandering  steps, 
So  long  as  my  heart  beats,  as  my  pulse  throbs, 
So  long  I  will  go  with  thee  ! 


60  INGOMAR. 

Ing.  Thou,  Parthenia, 
Wilt 

Par.  Ay,  will  follow  thee  wherever  thou  goest. 

[Drops  the  sword  and  embraces  him. 
Thy  way  shall  be  my  way — thy  fate  be  mine. 
Where  thou  dost  build  thy  house,  there,  too,  shall  be 
My  home  ;  the  language  that  sounds  on  thy  lips, 
That  will  I  speak  ;  what  pleases  thee  shall  be 
My  joy  ;  and  what  afflicts  thee,  that  will  I 
Suffer,  too,  with  thee.     Thine  am  I,  and  nothing 
Shall  part  us  more  ! 

Ing.  Do  I  dream  ?     Thou  liest  on 
My  breast, — thou  lovest  me  ! — thou,  Massilia's  child, 
And  I  the  stranger,  the  barbarian  ! 

Par.  Oh,  speak  that  word  no  more  ;  for  what  are  we, 
Compared  to  thee,  thou  good,  thou  noble  one  ! 
How  they  stood  shamed  before  thee  !  the  proud  Greeks : 
Before  thee !  who  earnest  here  to  learn  our  laws, 
But  who  has  taught  to  them  that  holy  law 
Of  truth  and  honor,  which  the  gods  themselves 
Impressed  upon  thy  heart ! 
How  great,  how  glorious  thou  stoodest  before  me. 
When  thou  for  duty  gavest  up  more  than  life — 
The  hope  of  life !     And,  oh,  how  shamed  I  feel 
That  I  presumed  to  teach  thee !     Pardon  me  ' 
Forgive  me. 

Ing.  Parthenia  mine !  mine  ! 

Par.  Long  have  I  been  thine  ; 
Ay,  since  the  day  when  thou  didst  learn  to  weep  and  fear. 
When  from  thy  hand  dropped  the  uplifted  sword, 
Which  threatened  at  my  life.     Yes,  since  that  day 
I  loved  thee  ;  and  if  in  shame  I  tried  to  hide  it  from  thee, 
I  only  loved  thee  more.     And  did  I  once 
With  foolish  tyranny  lay  on  the  trials, 
And  with  a  vain  superiority  presume 
Fpon  thy  noble  nature  ?  let  me  pay 
The  penalty  of  my  pride,  while  thus  in  love 
And  humbleness,  as  wife,  as  servant,  slave, 
I  sink  down  in  the  dust  before  thy  feet. 

[She  is  about  to  kneel,  when  Ingomar  checks  her,  and 
takes  her  to  his  bosom. 

Ing.  Before  my  feet !  my  slave  !     No.  as  two  stems 


1NG0MAR.  61 

With  one  root  let  us  be, — springing,  twined  upwards 
Towards  the  vault  of  heaven ;  we  will  be — 

1  Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought, 
Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one.' 

Enter  Myron  and  Actea,  from  house. 

Myr.  Ah  !  what  do  I  see  ?     Degenerate  girl, 
Into  the  house  with  thee  ! 

Par.  Not  without  Ingomar. 

Myr.  Have  you  not  heard  the  penalty  1 
Begone  !  f  To  Ingomar. 

Ing.  Not  without  her.     She  is  mine,  and  mine  for  ever. 

Enter  Polydor,  with  two  Greeks,  l. 

Pol.  Indeed — perhaps,  then,  you  will  pay  these  bonds  ? 
Two  hundred  drachmas,  or  to  speak  more  closely, 
Two  hundred  and  thirteen. 

Ing.  What  means  this  man  ? 
Good  friend.  I  owe  thee  nought. 

Pol.  No.  I  confess 
I  have  no  claim  on  you — but  Myron,  there, 
And  he  shall  pay  me  every  drachma,  too. 
Ah !  ha ! 

Myr.  Sir  !  I  owe  you  nothing. 

Pol.  Two  hundred  and  thirteen  drachmas  every  one  to  me. 

Myr.  I  am  indeed  in  debt  some  such  amount 
To  various  citizens,  but 

Pol   All  to  me  ! 
Aha  !  I  have  bought  up  all  your  debts,  and  I  am  now 
Your  only  creditor ;  and  I'll  be  paid,  too  ! 
Pay  me,  this  hour. 

Myr.  I  cannot. 

Pol.  Then  I  seize  you 
Here  for  my  slave — your  wife,  your  daughter,  too  ; 
All  for  my  slaves — aha  !     Now  you  may  mock 
And  gibe  at  Polydor !     You,  and  this  woman, 
I'll  sell  for  rubbish,  but  this  pretty  pert  one 
I'll  keep [Ingomar  springs  on  him  and  seizes  him. 

big.  Dog !  hound  !  down  to  her  feet  and  ask  for  mercy ! 

Pol.  Help — citizens  ! 

Par.   Hold,  Ingomar  !     It  is  too  true,  it  is  the  law. 


62 


INGOMAR. 


Ing.  Law  !  to  make  you  his  slave ! 

Par.  Alas  !  such  is  his  right — harm  him  not,  then. 

Ing.  She  bids  me  spare  thee,  or  I  had,  ere  this, 
Crushed  thee  beneath  my  heel ,  what  dost  thou  want  ? 

Pol.  Two  hundred  and  thirteen  drachmas — I'll  not  bate 
one. 

Ing.  But,  man,  they  have  it  not. 

Pol.  They  have  themselves. 
I'll  take  themselves — I  will  not  lose  my  money. 

Act.  Parthenia  shall  wed  thee. 

Pol.  I'll  not  have  her. 
Aha  !  I'll  have  my  money  or  my  slaves — 
So.  come. 

Ing.  Hold—  stay !  thou  art  fixed  to  have  this  ? 

Pol.  Ay, 
Either  in  gold  or  fleshj 

Ing.  Will  nothing  move  thee? 

Pol.  My  money  or  my  slaves. 

Ing.  Wait 

Pol.  Not  one  moment. 
Come,  slaves  ! 

Ing.  Stay — you  are  fixed  to  have  the  worth 
Of  your  two  hundred  drachmas  ? 

Pol.  And  thirteen  ! 
I'll  not  abate  a  piece. 

Ing.  Well,  I  will  promise  thee 
A  slave  worth  more  than  all  your  money. 

Pol,  Where? 

Ing.  Here  ! 

Pol.  Who? 

Ing.   Myself. 

Par.  Oh,  no,  no — heed  him  not— he's  mad! 

Ing.  Wert  thou  mad  when  thou  didst  give  up  thyself 
A  pledge  for  what  thou  lovedst  ?     Think  on  them. 

[Pointing  to  Iter  parents. 
Come,  hasten,  take  thy  slave  ! 

Pol.  Take  thee  !  a  firebrand  into  my  house  ! 

Ing.  Beware  !  lay  but  a  finger 
On  her  or  what  she  loves,  and  thou  shalt  know 
What  'tis  to  live  with  Ingomar,  thy  foe. 
In  vain  Massilia's  legions  shall  surround  thee — 
In  the  market,  amidst  thy  traffic,  in  thy  home, 


INGOMAR.  63 

Thy  bed.  in  the  dark  midnight,  there  shall  still 
Ingomar's  eye  glare  on  thee  :  thou  shalt  find 
Thyself  with  Ingomar  alone  ! 

Pol.  Help  !  mercy  ! 

I  will  consent — I (Aside  )     Oh,  the  whip,  the  chain 

Shall  make  him  pay  for  this ! 

Ing.  Give  me  those  papers.  [Snatching  them. 

Now,  Myron,  thou  art  free  !  All,  all  are  free 

Par.  Ob,  misery  ! 

[  Throwing  herself  into  the  arms  of  Ingomar. 

Ing.  And  now,  old  man,  although  unwillingly 
Thou  hast  kept  thy  word,  yet  will  I  freely  mine. 
I  will  work  for  thee,  truly,  diligently, 
And,  weep  not — cling  not  to  me  thus,  Parthenia  ; — 
Of  all  the  joys  with  which  thou  hast  cheered  my  soul, 
This  is  the  purest,  holiest.     The  slavery 
That  gires  thee  freedom,  brings  along  with  it 
So  rich  a  treasure  of  consoling  joy, 
Liberty  shall  be  poor  and  worthless  by  its  side. 

Pol.  I'll  put  thee  to  the  proof — come,  slave  !     Ah,  help  ! 
What  do  I  see  ?  the  enemy  !  the  barbarians  !  [Shouts  from  r. 
Treachery  !  the  city's  taken  !     Oh,  my  gold  ! 

Ing.  (Looking  of,  r.)    Peace,  fool !    do  you  not  see  they 
bear  green  boughs  ? 
They  come  in  peace — they  are  ambassadors. 

Enter  Timarch  with  attendants  ;  with  him  Alastor.  Novio, 
and  several  of  the  Alenianni  bearing  green  boughs. 

Ti?n.  Behold  the  man  you  seek  ! 

Alas.  Ingomar ! 

[Ingomar  rushes  to  tliem  and  greets  them. 

Ing.  Novio  !  why  come  you  here  ? 

Alas.  We  heard  a  rumor 
One  of  our  people  was  a  prisoner 
Within  these  walls  ;  and  paused,  upon  our  way 
Against  the  Allobrogi,  to  ask  its  truth. 

Tim.  He  is  free  as  yourselves. 

Alas.  Silence,  and  let  him  speak.     Ingomar,  speak  ! 
If  thou,  the  pride  and  glory  of  our  race, 
Art  here  under  restraint,  though  but  the  lightest, 
We  have  a  force  without  shall  quickly  level 
These  vile  walls  with  the  dust,  and  bear  thee  off 


61 


INGOMAR. 


In  triumph  from  them.     Say,  then,  art  thou  free? 

Ing.  (Calmly.)  No. 

Tim.  No! 

Alas    What  art  thou,  then  ? 

Ing.  (  With  a  smile.)  A  slave. 

Alas.  Pass  round  the  sword  without ! — to  the  attack  ! — 
Down  with  the  walls  ! 

Jng.  Hold  !  and  let  no  man  stir. 
How  !  think  you  Ingomar  would  live  a  slave 
But  by  his  own  submission  ? 

Alas.  Where's  the  chief,  then, 
The  mighty  warrior  who  has  vanquished  thee  ? 
I  burn  to  look  on  him. 

Ing    [Pointing  to  Polydor,  who  has  crept  into  a  corner. 
Behold  him,  there  ! 

Alas.  Ah,  he  !      [Flourishes  his  axe,  standing  over  him. 

Pol.   Help  !  mercy  !  help  ! 

Tim.         [  Who  lias  been  talking  tvith  Myron,  advances. 
Oh  !  noble,  matchless  man. 
Take  back  rhy  liberty — my  word  confers  it. 

Ing,  Not  so — 
My  honor  pledged  me  yonder  creature's  slave 
For  a  condition  :  he  has  granted  that : 
My  faith  is  pledged,  and  must  be  kept :  who  would 
That  Ingomar  were  free,  must  pay  his  ransom. 

Tim.  That  be  my  privilege.      {To  his  attendants.)     Dis- 
charge this  ransom. 
Be  justice  done — but  not  imperfectly — 
More  justice  rests  behind.     When  he  is  paid. 
See  he  collects  his  wealth,  all  that  he  owns  ; 
Then  drive  him  forth  beyond  the  city  walls — 
Massilia's  shame  and  scorn. 

Pol.   Mercy,  great  Timarch  ! 
The  barbarians  are  without — they'll  plunder  mc  ! 

Tim    See  thou  to  that — away  with  him  ! 

Noble  Ingomar,  [Polydor  is  driven  out. 

If  such  as  thou  the  Alemanni  breed, 
Thoy  must  be  made  Massilia's  friends,  allies, 
At  any  honorable  price. 
A  few  hours  back  we  offered  thee  a  house, 
Lands,  and  this  maid  for  wife. 


INGOMAR. 


65 


Alas.  The  Greek  girl !  then 
He  is  lost  to  us.     Farewell — peace  to  Massilia  ! 

Tim.  We  must  have  more  than  peace— fellowship,  friendship. 
Let  us  be  brothers — land  shall  be  assigned  you 
To  found  a  city  near  us,  of  which  city 
We  name  thee,  Ingomar,  the  Timarch. 

[  They  shout  '  Peace P  '  Massilia  P  and  ;  Ingomar  P 

Myr.  There,  wife  !  dost  hear  ?  our  son-in-law  a  Timarch  ! 
Who  is  right  now  1     How,  Ingomar,  not  a  word  % 

Ing.  Oh,  hush !  my  swelling  heart  has  only  room 
For  one  thought,  for  one  word — Parthenia,  mine, 
For  ever  mine!  {Embracing  her.)     To  love  I  owe  this  bliss. 

Par.  To  love  and  honor. 

Ing.  Ah !  now,  indeed,  for  ever  we  are  joined — 

'  Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought, 
Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one.' 

DISPOSITION  OF  THE  CHARACTERS. 


CURTAIN. 


U?SB  LIBRARY 


THE   MINOR  DRAMA. 

jasf  is  iffiS=w:SK2» 

tne  sS£  the  publishers  of  the  "Modern  Standard  Drama"  have 
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VOL.    IV. 

2.5.  Secret  Service. 
'~6.  Omnibus. 

27.  Irish  Lion. 

28.  Maid  of  Croissey. 
2y.  The  Old  Guard. 

30.  Raising  the  Wind. 

31.  Slasher  and  Crasher. 

32.  Naval  Eugagements. 
With  a  Portrait  and  Memoir  of 

MISS  ROSE  TELBIN. 

VOL.    V. 

33.  Cocknies  in  California. 

34.  Who  Speaks  First. 

35.  Bombastes  Furioso. 
3b'.   Macbeth  Tiavestie. 

37.  The  Irish  Ambassador. 

38.  Delicate  Ground. 

39.  The  Weathercock. . 


vol   1. 
fl.  The  Irish  Attorney. 

2.  Boots  at  the  Swan. 

3.  How  to  Pay  the  Rent. 

4.  The  Loan  of  a  Lover. 
'  5.  The  Dead  Shot. 

6.  His  Last  Legs. 

7.  The  Invisible  Prince. 

8.  The  Golden  Farmer. 
With  a  Portrait  and  Memoir  of 

MR.  JOHN  SEFTON. 

VOL.    11. 

9.  The  Pride  of  the  Market. 

10.  Used  Up. 

11.  The  Irish  Tutor. 

12.  The  Barrack  Room. 

13.  Luke  the  Laborer. 

14.  Beauty  and  the  Beast. 

15.  St.  Patrick's  Eve. 

16.  Captain  of  the  Watch. 
With  a  Portrait  and  Memoir  of 

MISS  C.  WEMYSS. 

VOL.    III. 

17.  The  Secret 

18.  White  Horse  of  the  Peppers. 

19.  The  Jacobite. 

20.  The  Bottle. 

21.  Box  and  Cox. 
22-  Bamboozling. 

23.  Widow's  Victim. 

24.  Robert  Macaire. 
With  a  Portrait  and  Memoir  of 

MR.  F.  S.  CHANFRAU. 

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WILLIAM  TAYLOR  &  CO.,  151  Nassau  St.,  Corner  of  Spruce. 


MODERN  STANDARD   DRAMA. 

Price,  12  1-2  Cents  each. — Bound  Volumes,  $1.00. 


VOL.  I. 

1.  Ion. 

2.  Fazio. 

3.  The  Lady  of  Lyon*. 

4.  Richelieu. 

5.  The  W  ne. 

6.  'i'lie  Honey  Moon. 

7.  'Die  School  lor  Scan- 

dal. 

8.  Mouey. 

With  a  Portrait  and 
Memoir  of  Mrs.  A.  C. 
MO  WATT. 

vol..  II. 

9.  The  Stranger. 

1U.  Grandfather  White- 
head. 

11.  Richard  III. 

12.  Love's  Sacrifice. 

13.  '1  He  Gamester. 

14.  A  Cure  tor  the  Heart- 

ache. 

15.  The  Huuchback. 

16.  Uou  Csesar  De  Bazan. 
With  a  Portrait  and  Me- 
moir of  Mr.  CHARLES 
KEAjS. 

Jvol  III. 

17.  The  Four  Gentleman, 
le.  Hamlet. 

19.  Charles  II. 

20.  Vesice  Preserved. 

21.  P.zarro. 

22.  1  ue  Love-Chase, 

23.  OUielto. 

24.  Leud    Me    Five    Shil- 

lings. 

With  a  Portrait  and 
Memoir  of  Mr.  W.  E. 
BURTOJX. 

VOL.  IV. 

25.  Virgimus. 

2b.  Tim  King  of  the  Com- 
mons. 

27    Louuon  Assurance.     * 

2a.  The  Kent-Day. 

29.  Two  Ueullewen  of 
V  erona. 

3U   The  Jealous  Wife. 

31  1  he  Rivals. 

32  I'oriccuou. 

With  a  Portrait  mnd 
Memoir  of  Mr.  J.  H. 
HA.VKETT. 


VOL.  V. 

33.  A  New  Way  to  Pay 
Old  Debts. 

31    Look  Belore  You  Leap. 

35    Kiug  John. 

3b'    Tue  :\ervou»  Man. 

37.  Damon  and  Fyilnas.      , 

3c.  The  Clandestine  Mar- 
riage. 

3').  William  Tell. 

40.  The     Uay    After    the 

Wedding. 
With,  a  Portrait  and  Me- 
moir oj  UEU.  (JOLMAJX 
the  Elder. 

VOL.  VI. 

41.  Speed  the  Plough. 

42.  Romeo  and  J  uliet. 

43.  Feudal  Times. 

44.  Charles  tlie  Twelfth. 

45.  The  Bridal. 

46.  The  Follies  of  a  Night. 

47.  The  Irou  Chest. 

48.  Faint    Heart     Never 

Won  Fair  Lady. 
With  a  Portrait  and  Me- 
moir of  Sir  A.  BULWER 
LXTTOil. 

VOL.  VII. 

49.  Road  to  Hum. 

50.  Macbeth., 

51.  Temper. 

52.  Lvadue. 

53.  Bertram. 

54.  The  Duenna. 

55.  Much  Ado  About  Noth- 
ing. 

56.  Tue  Critic 

With  a  Portrait  and 
Memoir  of  H.  t.  SUER1- 
DAtl. 

VOL.    VIII., 

57.  The  Apostate. 
54.  TwclHu  Nigut. 
59.  Brutus. 

00.  Simpson  It  Co. ' 
til.  Merchant  of  Venice. 

62.  Old  lleud.  and  Young 

Hearts. 

63.  Mountaineers. 

64.  Three     Weeks    After 

Marriage. 
WirA    a    Portrait    and 
Memoir  of  Mi    UEO.  H. 
BARRETT. 


VOL.  IX. 

65.  Love. 

06.  As  You  Like  It' 

67.  The  Kldcr  Brother. 

68.  Werner. 

69.  Gisippus. 

70.  Town  and  Country.] 

71.  King  Lear. 

72.  Blue  Devils. 

WttA    a    Portrait    and 
Memoir  of  MRS.  SHAW. 

VOL.  X., 

73.  Henry  V11I.  * 

74.  Married  and  Single. 

75.  Heury  IV. 

76.  Paul  Pry. 

77.  Guy  Mannering. ' 

78.  Sweethearts  &  Wive*. 

79.  The  Serious  Family. 

80.  She  Stoops  to  Conquer, 

VOL.  XI. 

81.  Julius  Ctesar. 

82.  Vicar  of  Wakefield, 
b3.  Leap  Year. 

84.  The  Catspaw. 

85.  The  Passing  Cloud-J 


13**  On  a  Remittance  of  One  Dollar,  free  of  postage,  Tea  copies 
of  any  of  the  plays  will  be  sent  by  mail. 

WILlAAM  TAYLOR  &  CO.,  151  Nassau  St.,  Corner  of  Spruce. 


